Sometimes We Die
by H Ashleigh
Summary: Instead of abandoning Severus after he insults her in their fifth year, Lily forgives him and they carry on with their friendship. Offers snapshots of other characters, their thoughts and actions, and details the connection they all have with one another.
1. Intro to Dying

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter One:** Intro to Dying

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Friday, June 13, 1975_

_Afternoon_

I was quite an ordinary, unoriginal sort of girl. I had heard from many that I had an unreasonable temper, but other than that, I was nothing too special. Of course, I was a witch, but that's really nothing to brood on about.

I was also quite boring to look at, if I do say so myself. My hair was thick, straight, and the color of rust and my nose was nothing more than a button with spots sprinkled over it. My eyes were the only different thing about me, seeing as they were unnaturally bright green. They were, and still are to this day, my standing attribute, and they weren't even anything to sing about.

I could usually be seen in the corner of a room, my hair braided messily, and my reading glasses perched on my nose, with a book sitting in my lap. I was really that unexciting. The only thing I was really concerned about was retaining my Top Student status at Hogwarts. I hardly ever partook in anything fun, I had never been on a date, nor had I ever kissed a boy. Ever.

I know, I know. Most girls my age had shagged at least one guy in their perspective lifetime. But what could I say? I had more important things on my mind. It wasn't as if I was unattracted to boys. I just hadn't the time to deal with their ineptitude.

And so, I tell you, if I could do one thing, it would be to decide what I would be studying N.E.W.T.s in. I was right now, of course, sitting the most important examinations I would ever partake in, my O.W.L.s, but I rarely was subject to exam anxiety. When I took exams, it was as if I left my body, and my mind and scroll floated up into the rafters of the hall. I never sweated out the answers to the questions in absolute nervousness like most of my fellow classmates, but rather allowed the knowledge to flow steadily out of my hand and through my quill as I tackled my exam.

So, enter Defense O.W.L.s:

The Great Hall was hot and sticky due to the unusually warm spring that had begun pressing down upon the castle, and I'm pretty sure a hazy heat hung around the rafters of the room in thick curtains, held up by the ropes of tension threading out from each student, but I could not feel the air around me as I scribbled away at my essay's.

_"Give five signs that identify the werewolf."_

I remembered Potter so arrogantly answering this question in class, and quickly filled in my exam paper with the correct response.

Golden sunlight poured through huge windows on either side of the Hall, and cast big blocks of yellow fire upon the students or the floor. Particles of dust flitted around in the brilliance, nestling in girls' hair or causing people to sneeze, and the ceiling of the Hall was an arresting, unsullied cornflower blue.

_"Explain how to effectively dispose of a vampire."_

I recalled in my mind my scroll of notes solely devoted to this topic, and quickly leaked it out onto the test booklet. It was all quite simple, really.

_"Divulge the incantations to be rid of the following dark creatures:_

_ 1) boggart:_

_ 2) hinkypunk:_

_ 3) kappa:_

_ 4) red cap:_

_ 5) banshee:_

_ 6) dementor:_

_ 7) grindylow:_

_ 8) pogrebin:_

And so I quickly finished up, and set my glasses, quill and parchment aside in order to watch those around me. I was pretty big on people watching. Of course I couldn't upset the examination proctor, and so I had to make my watching as surreptitious as possible, but I could still engage in some pretty effective dissections of those around me. I sat relatively close to the back of the room and so I had a good vantage point of everyone.

Most were still scribbling frantically, as if the whole rest of their world depended on this one moment in time, which, if we took into perspective how important Defense was, their world probably did depend on these few moments. The only people who weren't writing anything were James Potter, who was rocking his chair on its back two legs leisurely, Dexter Adams, one of the smartest students in my year, and myself.

Dexter sat all the way up at the front of my row, and was leaning his head back on his shoulders with his eyes shut. He was probably silently thanking Merlin that he had gotten to the end of exam week without going mental like a few of the Hufflepuffs had. I really didn't know why he had been so stressed about any of the exams though. He was one of the students I had studied with the evening before, and also one of the few students whom I thought about when I worried about being top student of the year.

I turned away from him, and towards the rest of the Hall. Josie Figg, one of my closest friends, was sitting at the front of the row to the right of mine, and was chewing on the end of one of the generic, plastic quills we had been handed at the beginning of the exam. She was twirling a brown curl around one of her right fingers, and I could imagine her tongue between her teeth, what she did when she concentrated.

"Five more minutes," the exam proctor crowed. This one was a rather interesting assortment of color and mousey-brown hair, and had claimed to be called Madame Parx. She was very tall, and I had never heard of her before. Usually I could recognize the proctor's names, as I avidly kept up with the Prophet, and more often than not, the proctors who took care of our exams were also the top witches or wizards in their fields. I wondered what Madame Parx specialized in; perhaps she was foreign? Her voice did not suggest an accent, however, so I could not tell.

My other close friend from Gryffindor, Emily Leach, sat caddy-cornered from me in the next row over. She was practically boring a hole into her table top with her quill tip. While one of Emily's strongest subjects was Defense, and she had expressed to me on several occasions she wished to become an Auror, she developed severe test anxiety a few hours before each exam. She was probably thinking right now she didn't know how to answer any of the questions.

"Quills down, and please be sure your names and examination numbers are on the outside of each scroll one last time before I collect them. You may keep your question packets."

She waited a few moments while all the students scrambled to complete their thoughts, and when the last scroll had been rolled up, she called "Accio," and they all zoomed into the bag she had kept behind her desk. "Have a nice afternoon."

There was a huge scrapping of chairs as everyone hurried to get out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds. I plucked my school bag up from underneath my table, and started heading towards the entrance hall. Josie and Emily were soon right behind me.

"How'd the exam go?" Emily asked immediately, digging in her hand bag for a bit of gum.

"Fine, I didn't really get too stumped on anything," I replied confidently as we slowly made our way out onto the grounds.

It was an absolute gorgeous day, with a few pillow-like clouds scuttling across the blue bowl of sky. The front door of the school was spitting the students out as if all the tension and anxiety that had built up in its confines over the last month was now unbearable and it couldn't help but heave the students out.

"Speak for yourself," Josie grunted, interrupting my thoughts. She had sort of a raspy voice, and so every time she met someone new, they all thought she had a bad bronchial infection. "I couldn't remember for the life of me the five A's of dealing with a Dark creature, and I'm sure those were important."

"How could you not remember those, Josie?" Emily demanded. "Awareness, appreciation, attempt agreement, attack! It's all very simple."

"I'm sure you got outstanding on your Divination O.W.L., don't worry Ems'," Josie replied sarcastically. Emily hated Divination.

Emily huffed and popped her gum loudly in Josie's ear.

"It's alright, Josie," I told her. "We all know you're a Divination person. I couldn't really tell you why, to be honest, but you are. Defense is just not your forte."

"I can have Aurors doing it for me," she said. "Ems', you're my flat mate out of Hogwarts, " Josie said, smirking playfully. "Hey Lily, aren't you going to sit with Sevvie?" She said all of a sudden in a sickeningly sweet voice, catching sight of Severus plopping down on the grounds a ways away.

"Josie, don't ever let him catch you saying that," I told her, chuckling slightly. "He would hex you into the inner circles of Hell."

"I think he might be rather sweet on you, Lily," Emily interjected pensively, looking at her fingernails as we walked.

"Don't be ridiculous," I replied, hoisting my bag further up my shoulder. "Severus doesn't get sweet on anyone. It's not in his nature."

"I know," Josie interjected snidely. "He's always prancing around with his friends, hexing people. I can't believe you don't resent him already, like you do Potter. They're almost one and the same, you know"

"No they're not!' I said loudly to them both.

Josie snickered to herself, and Emily snorted at my reaction.

"Touchy much?" Josie poked fun. I looked over at her, and her dark blue eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"It's whatever, you two," I said. "I don't feel like hearing you complain about Severus again. He's been my best friend for a long time now, and helped me through a lot of things when I first came to Hogwarts. You both know that, so leave me alone about it all right? Besides, it's such a gorgeous day for exams to finally be over, and I don't want to think about things like that right now."

"I know. I absolutely adore the summer. I can't wait for the party in the common room tonight!" Josie replied enthusiastically.

"I actually can't wait to get back home," Emily exclaimed. "Are you guys coming to visit this summer? I believe it's my turn to play host!"

"Yeah, of course, I can't wait!" I said. It was indeed Emily's turn to have Josie and me over. We each took turns every summer having each other over for a couple of weeks.

We were making our way over to the lakes edge, where Hazel Clarke and Mary MacDonald, our fellow Gryffindors were wading, as well as Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, and Winetta Rowe from Ravenclaw, and Vernette Ziegler and Molly Green from Hufflepuff. When we got there, Emily and Josie quickly removed their robes, shoes, and stockings and gingerly treaded the water.

"Lily, come on, before the squid comes over!" Josie said, turning back and smiling at me as I set my bag down on the ground.

I quirked a smile at her, and quickly shrugged off my heavy Hogwarts robes and dispelled of my shoes and socks, and my feet welcomed the warm grass and cool mud beneath them.

The water at the bank curled into dainty, brackish waves that crashed on the grainy, thick, dirt-like sand that clogged the shore. Tiny tendrils of vegetation and weed furled in with the waves, undulating in the lake water, and I could see tiny fishes flitting in and out between the weeds. As soon as I stepped into it, I could feel the residual iciness from the winter still lingering in the undercurrents dredged up from the deepest parts of the lake, and I suppressed a shiver. The soothing currents lapped at my ankles, and my tired feet were beginning to feel revived and stimulated.

All around me, fifth years were laughing good-naturedly; a three-ton anvil had been lifted from all of us, and we could joke with one another again without feeling as if that time spent laughing was time that should have been spent memorizing another potion, or rehearsing transfiguration theory.

"So, overall?" Emily asked me. She had left Josie, who was getting the hem of her skirt wet with Hazel and Mandy, and had climbed back up the bank to join me people-watching.

"Relatively well, I guess. I'm sure Outstanding in Potions, Charms, and Arithmancy, and probably Defense and History of Magic too, that's just memorization. I'm not too sure about Herbology or Transfiguration, though. How about you?"

"I'm not too confident about Herbology either, or Potions or History of Magic," she started, twirling a piece of her red-gold hair around one of her fingers. She had this terrible habit of mussing her hair, making it even frizzier than it already was. "I just don't care enough to memorize it all. That's why we have professors like Binns," she replied matter-of-factly.

I giggled, but didn't agree. I had always thought History was forever interesting and terribly useful.

"What do you want to do N.E.W.T.s in?" Emily asked after a few more moments of comfortable silence.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, and what I would really like to do is work for the Daily Prophet, like be a writer or reporter or something. You know how much I love writing," I remarked. This was true; I had journals and notebooks full of my thoughts, short stories, and things like that. "I don't think there is a N.E.W.T. program offered for it though, I already discussed it with McGonagall. She said there are always seminars offered for reporters and writers, keeping them up to date on things, and she said I could probably attend those; she just needs to check with Dumbledore. I will probably just do Potions, and all the classes required for that."

"I'm glad _you're_ so sure," Emily replied, her tone twisting around her words. "I'm torn between a few things. You know I mentioned becoming an Auror, but I don't know if that would be the wisest thing to pursue. The death rate for Auror's is up almost one hundred percent, and if I were to die and leave my mother all alone with Madison... no, it's terribly impractical. I'm probably much better off working for Gringotts, or something like that."

We were silent for a moment, enjoying the spring day as it filtered down around us. The breeze coming off the lake sunk its long, cool fingers into my hair, feeling exhilarating against the heat and moisture that had settled in the roots. I heard some raucous laughter a little ways away, and turned around to see what the cause of it was.

And what I saw infuriated me like only James Potter's doings could.

There was Potter and his little friends, standing under that big tree they liked to frequent so often, partaking in their usual cruelty, imposing themselves upon everyone around them who they deemed anything less than perfect. And of course, as usual, they were tormenting Severus. I turned to Emily with an exasperated look on my face, and she just shrugged indifferently, so I turned and ran back up the hill, surveying the scene as I got closer.

There was Remus, still sitting at the base of the tree, reading his book as if nothing were going on, even though I don't have any idea how he was concentrating with Peter laughing to wet his trousers next to him. Sirius was standing up, leaning against the trunk of the tree, his school robes thrown on the ground a few feet away and his right hand shoved in his pocket. His left twirled his wand around leisurely, a glint residing in his eyes that set me on edge. And there was Potter, standing in front of them all, his arms folded in front of him, staring down at Severus, condescension dripping from the tip of his nose slowly and pooling around his feet.

Severus was muttering and stammering under his breath, hissing out curses and hexes that had no effect because his wand was sticking up out of the ground a good ten or twelve feet away. He was not moving either, so I'm guessing Potter had used the Impediment Jinx on him.

Potter looked affronted, and said, "Wash out your mouth. Scourgify."

Severus began choking on soapy froth that was seeping out between his lips, and coating his chin. When he saw me running over to them, his eyes widened and he shook his head at me twice, almost imperceptibly; I had known him for so long and realized that he almost certainly did not want me to interfere, but at that moment I did not care what he wanted: I wanted justice so much more badly.

"Leave him ALONE!" I yelled, anger turning my head into a ball of radiating heat. Potter jumped at the sound of my voice and before he had even turned around to see me, he had already starting mussing his hair. 'Good,' I thought bitterly to myself. 'Do those things that irritate me most, I'll just become angrier and angrier.'

"All right, Evans?" he replied, ignoring my request completely. This was so like him, so arrogant and pompous.

"Leave him alone," I repeated, anger making every syllable tremble. "What's he done to you?"

"Well," Potter began to say, gesticulating with his hands as if he were explaining a rather complex Arithmancy problem, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..."

Laughter swam around the small crowd of people that had surrounded the scene. The only three people not laughing were Severus, Remus, and I.

"You think you're funny," I said, my voice iced over with glacial undertones. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone." Of course, I had said all of these things to him countless times before and it never really changed how he behaved. I could almost predict what he was going to say next. He would probably invite me to Hogsmeade for dinner or something at Madam Puddifoot's, as if I would ever frequent that disgustingly sickening place.

"I will if you go out with me, Evans." Right on schedule. "Go on... Go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and noticed that the jinx was starting to wear off of Severus. Maybe if I could distract Potter and his little minions long enough, Severus could get away and all this could end cleanly.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," I said coldly, eliciting spattered laughter from the crowd.

"Bad luck, Prongs," Sirius replied, and before I could catch his attention, his back was to me once more. "OY!" he yelled, noticing what Severus' antics had been as their backs had been turned.

Sirius wasn't quick enough though; Snape had dived for his wand, sliding on the ground and snatching it up, directing it straight at Potter's face. A flash of bright light ensued, and blood was soon pouring all over James' robes. I felt a small bit of satisfaction rear up in the back of my chest, and smiled silently at Severus, who had all the while been looking to see how I reacted. Unfortunately, his attention to my reaction left him unprepared for what came next.

Without any more warning than a second flash of light, Severus soon found himself to be hanging upside down in mid-air. His robes fell down around his head, and I saw his skeletal calves and thighs, and felt nothing but pity for my dear friend.

Everyone around me exploded in laughter, but my voice rose above it all as I started to yell again.

"LET HIM DOWN!"

"Certainly," James replied cockily, and I realized a split second too late that he had taken my words literally. Severus was soon on the ground in a tangled mess, his robes up over his head and his legs twisted oddly together. It took him several moments to stand up properly, spurred on by the relentless laughter enveloping the air around him, and as soon as he got up, Sirius yelled "Locomotor Mortis!" He fell over again onto the grass, rigid and stiff.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" I shouted louder than I had so far. I pulled my wand out of my belt loop, and pointed it at Potter, who turned at my explosion. He twisted one side of his mouth up into one of the ugliest smiles I had ever seen, and my nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," James said, his eyes pleading with me.

"Take the curse off him, then!"

James sighed deeply, as if all his fun was being denied, and the contempt I felt towards him instantly deepened to an all-new level. He turned to Severus, who soon found that being limber was as easy as it had always been.

"There you go," he said to Severus, who was standing up and straightening his robes on his frame. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" he shot back, and even though deep in his eyes I could see humiliation and pain shooting daggers through anyone who looked at him, I felt the world shift under my feet and my head started to buzz with voices full of self-righteousness and derision. A fist of iron clenched my heart, and I could just imagine the field day Emily and Josie would have later on that evening when I told them about what Severus had called me. They had always said it was only a matter of time before I realized his true intentions.

"Fine," I replied, the coldness I usually reserved for Potter infusing into my breath and escaping out of my mouth before I could think about it. "I won't bother in future." And before I could stop it, diarrhea of the mouth ensued, and I vomited out, "And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologize to Evans!" Potter exploded, turning his wand on Severus once again. Apparently he thought I was on his side now.

"I don't want you to make him apologize," I shouted, turning to him and shoving my finger into his shoulder. "You're just as bad as he is..."

"What?" yelped James, the deep voice he had used earlier giving way to the cracking that so plagued teenage boys. "I'd NEVER call you a -you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can- I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK."

And before I could say anything else, I turned around and ran back down the hill towards my friends, who were staring up at the entire scene. Behind me I could hear Potter calling my name, but I couldn't stand to look back.

***

Later that evening, I sat in the Common Room with Josie and Emily, all three of us already clad in our pajamas, staring around at the party but not feeling any of the relief I had felt right after the exam had been over. All around me, people were dancing and eating. Potter and his friends had stolen food and drink from the kitchens, and I'm sure the sweets and punch tasted so good, but I had no appetite. The only thing I could think of was Severus and how he seemed to have thrown five years of close friendship out the window. I didn't really know what to think or feel. I had always known the way he was, but I had never honestly thought it could be directed at me. I had always thought he made exceptions for me in his prejudices.

Next to me, Josie and Emily were sitting peacefully. Quite against what I had thought, neither of them had said, "I told you so," but rather had been slightly sympathetic. They knew Severus had always been my closest friend, and while maybe they didn't understand exactly why this was so they were being supportive now, and that's all that mattered to me. Josie was drinking a butterbeer, and Emily was eating some crisps, but they were not dancing or partying, even though I had insisted several times for them to go and have fun.

"You know, Lils," Josie started after about twenty minutes of awkward silence. "I'm sure he was just really humiliated, especially since you were there and all, and we think he fancies you."

"I'm sure he fancies me," I replied bitterly. "Because apparently Mudblood is a term of endearment nowadays, never mind that it's degrading and nasty and positively medieval."

Josie didn't really know what to say to that, so we sat in silence again, listening to Gryffindor's resident band sing and rock away their newest songs. In order to distract myself from the impending doom, which was surely inevitable if I continued thinking about my best friend and his betrayal, I focused on the band, named The Fetes. There were six members, and the sound they produced was pretty different from the standard rock I was used to hearing in the muggle world. For one thing, incorporated into the music was a beautiful sound that only a combination of cello and bagpipe could produce. Hazel Clarke played the cello and Geoff Cantor, a sixth year, played the bagpipes. Then there was the standard bass, played by Patrick Davies, one of the guys in our year, and the drums, played by a brilliant fourth year named Luke Finkle. There was one guitar player, named Kimberlyn Syvil, but she was a seventh year and this was probably one of her last shows. And then there was the singer, a sixth year by the name of Alizen Rogers. She produced a sound which I had never even knew could escape from one's vocal chords. It was haunting when the cello overrode most of the other sounds, and then it could be harsh and unforgiving when the drums and bass were the strongest elements.

The song she was singing right now was mellow and rather anguished, as if she were singing solely to the guitar player and all the other seventh years, who were probably feeling nostalgic. Her voice swam out of her throat like a thick hand full of beauty and elegiacs and wrapped itself around everyone in the room, transfixing them and holding them hostage. There were a few couples dancing, but most everyone was sitting and listening contently, with butterbeers lolling lazily in one hand and sentimentality etched on their faces.

"Hey Lily," I heard to my left. "Snape is waiting outside the portrait hole for you." It was Mary MacDonald, standing next to Emily with her hands shoved in her pockets. She was kind of a mediocre looking girl with long, straight brown hair and a thin mouth. I had never gotten that close to her.

"Hmpf," I replied, and crossed my arms over my chest. "That's just too bad for him, now isn't it?"

Mary looked at me sheepishly. "He's threatening to stay the night out there if you don't come and talk to him."

Emily snorted, and I discerned "immature git," from her mouth. I rolled my eyes and stood up quickly, brushing off my nightgown. "Thanks Mary." When I walked past Potter, he looked up and stared at me, as if he knew exactly what I was about to do.

As soon as I was out of the portrait hole I saw Severus curled up in a ball in a corner. A minute part of me felt contrition, but my stubbornness overcame all other emotions and soon I was a locked vault of frigidness and intolerance, waiting to be tempted so that I could explode. As soon as he heard the portrait hole snap shut, his head flew up and his eyes opened wide with gratitude. I pursed my lips and stared him down, crossing my arms over my chest and he stood up quickly.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered quickly, wringing his hands nervously.

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!" he insisted with more fervor this time, his eyes pleading with me for forgiveness.

"Save your breath." I was really sticking to the bitchiness I had vowed to. "I only came out here because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just-"

"Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. You and your precious little Death Eater friends-," I paused here, seeing if he would try to refute my claims, but he just stared at me, lost for words. "-you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

He looked confused, and opened his mouth to say something, but words never flowed out. He almost looked unapologetic; I wouldn't have been surprised if he had shrugged his shoulders at me in matter-of-faction.

"I can't pretend anymore," I continued ruthlessly. "You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No- listen, I didn't mean-"

"- To call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

His mind looked as if it were reeling, and I know he had things that he wanted to say, but he didn't say them, and after a few moments I grew impatient. I raised my eyebrows a bit, and then turned around and walked back into the Common Room. There was nothing left to be done.

Later that night, after all the rest of my dorm mates had gone to sleep, I issued a very strong silencing charm on the curtains around my bed, and cried myself loudly and miserably to sleep.

A/N: Thanks to my new beta, MRSSPICY, who is editing all of my chapters and then working with me on the new ones. Comments very welcome.


	2. Saloma

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Two: **Saloma

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_All I ever really wanted was a little piece of you." –Rachel Yamagata_

_Friday, June 13, 1975_

_Late Evening_

Severus stared at the Fat Lady's simpering eyes as she glared down at him. Her triple-chin was topped by a pouty, glossy mouth, which may have seemed becoming on some, but on her was merely revolting. She smacked her lips together before shrugging at him, as if to ask, "What did you expect?" and then her eyelids drooped down slowly, and she settled into a light slumber.

And Severus still stared at the portrait, shell-shocked into absolute immobility. He probably wouldn't have been able to move if a tempest had come up from behind and accosted him. He had never felt this way before, never felt bits of reality falling from his slate-gray sky, and he had to admit to himself that it felt worse than anything yet in his life.

Her words echoed in his ears, her usually lilting, clear voice transformed into short, staccato bursts of harsh sound, and he suppressed the wave of cold chills moving down his body, transforming him into a being of numbness. His legs felt detached from his body, his lips and face were beginning to feel bloodless; he could feel the blood pounding through his temples, rushing around in his veins and arteries, setting his nerves on fire.

And when he realized that he had never heard her speak to anyone the way she had just spoken to him, not even Potter, the weight that had sunk down into his stomach increased ten-fold, and if he had been any other person, his knees would have given out, and he would have crashed to the floor in defeat. Darkness began creeping into the corners of his vision, his hands began sweating, and he blinked once, twice, to clear his eyes. His lips were dry and the tip of his tongue wet them, and then he was itching all over, his skin was crawling with invisible mites.

And then he heard the Fat Lady sigh in exasperation, and the Portrait Hole clicked open once more. Severus thought maybe, just maybe, Lily was venturing out again to genuinely make up with him…

But it wasn't Lily; it was Potter and his goons of friends.

"--so we need some firewhiskey and the seventh year girls wanted some Elven wine, isn't that right, Sirius?" Severus could recognize Potter's voice anywhere, and he shrank back into the shadows offered by a dirty old tapestry hanging from the ceiling. He never thought the hatred he knew for James Potter could run any deeper, but oh how wrong he had been. Before, it had encased his heart in a steel case that rang like a bell every time it was bothered, and now it had become embedded in his tendons, had etched its very nature into the core of his chest. This little boy standing in front of him was what had cost him the only being that had ever given him cause for life, had ever given him reason to believe there may be something worth living for.

Black grunted in acquiescence, and Severus almost couldn't contain a snort of contempt for the blundering fools. "Looks like old Snivelly scampered off right quick, although I think I can still smell his greasiness lingering."

"That Alizen has such a beautiful voice," he heard Pettigrew coo.

"Peter, you're such a little girl," Potter said teasingly, his right hand idly twirling his wand around like a Muggle girls baton.

Soon they were halfway down the long corridor, and Severus couldn't hear their voices anymore, so he stepped out from behind the heavy curtain, pointed his wand towards their backs and muttered the Deep Sleep curse he had been working on. Of course, he had to alter it slightly so that it could cater to the four of them, and not just one, and he also tacked a timer onto it, so that only when the first rays of sunlight peeked through the upper windows would they wake.

Severus chuckled to himself, having momentarily forgotten his devastation. He strode down the warm, carpeted corridor that was so unlike the dank, dripping tunnels that led to his dormitories and turned to look at the four of them. They, of course, couldn't see him, and had stopped completely and entirely in their motions. It was as if they had been petrified.

Potter's wand arced in midair, almost wholly unsupported, and his left hand was dug into the crown of his head, mussing his hair as was his defining attribute. Pettigrew looked slovenly, as if he were thinking about leftover roast from that evening's leaving feast that might still be warm in the kitchens. Lupin's mouth was half-opened, as if it had been his turn to give contribution to their conversation when they had all but frozen in their tracks. Blacks eyes were crinkled into a smile, and Severus wondered for a moment what sort of asinine joke he could have been laughing at.

Then he turned away from them, feeling even more disconsolate than he had before, if that was possible. He looked around himself, and noticed that this space was so unlike anything he had been privy too, and he didn't understand how he had never noticed before. All around him lay warmth and color, those things that would probably never be completely customary to him, he who grew up in the epitome of devastation.

He turned to his left and looked out the arched window. Gryffindor tower was the highest of all the points in the castle, besides the Astronomy Tower, and looking out afforded him a view like none other.

The moon was waning, the crest of it just rising over the tips of the tallest pine trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was two days away from a new moon, and so it was a sliver of cheesecake, a porcelain doll's pale cheek. It cast an exquisite ivory color over the grounds, illuminating even the smallest blades of grass, and set the lake on fire, the reflection of it wavering gently on the roiling waves. The sky was a lovely cobalt blue, and only the brightest stars had yet to show their faces. They stared down at him, piercing through his skin, flipping through his mind as though they were expert Legilimens, and he shuddered at the feeling of their brightness sweeping through his memories.

Severus turned and headed back to his common room.

Little did he know, the going-ons of Slytherin Common Room on the eve of summer holidays were quite different from those in Gryffindor. When he walked in, the common room was pretty full, but rather than a punch bowl floating around the tops of all their heads, the hum of intelligent conversation hovered around the low hanging lamps.

He spotted a few of his friends sitting in a far corner and hurried over to them. They immediately poured him some black rum from a thin, half-empty bottle and shoved the small glass into his right hand before he could even sit down.

"Haven't seen you since the Defense O.W.L.," Judas Avery stated in between sips of his drink. His rather bugged out eyes roamed over Severus' face, searching for an answer before Severus could even utter a word.

"Yes," Severus enunciated, running his finger along the rim of the glass slowly.

"Been with your mudblood friend?" Jezebel Rosier demanded, her eyes flashing. Her twin brother Evan was staring at him with equal indignation, wondering what Severus' excuse might be this time.

Severus just sipped his drink, the ice cubes butting up against his lips, making it rather difficult to drink smoothly. He squashed his irritation with a small bout of difficulty and continued ignoring the other sixth-year Slytherins.

"Leave him alone, you lot," Virginia Travers said politically, setting her empty glass down on the coffee table in between them all with a soft clink. "I mean really, as if this is headline news. Jezebel, you look like the Dark Lord just murdered your puppy, get a grip."

"What do you know?" Jezebel demanded again (she tended to do a lot of that), turning her head to glare at Virginia.

"You're even moodier than usual, Jezzy," Evan said, pouring himself some more rum. "Did you not do as well on the Defense O.W.L. as you had hoped?" He winked at Virginia playfully, but she was too busy scratching her chin and staring at the nail bed on her left hand to notice him.

Jezebel sneered at his use of her childhood pet name, but chose not to reprimand him. He was the only one who was allowed leniency in this area. If any one else so much as thought the name 'Jezzy,' they were sentenced to ten years in Jezebel Rosier's own Azkaban, which was almost worse than the real thing.

Almost.

"Speaking of the Defense O.W.L.," Severus interjected smoothly. "It was abominably easy, if any of you got less than Outstanding I will be eternally embarrassed for our house."

"Let's just hope you didn't get too distracted by the mudblood's stink, I'm pretty sure I could smell it in the Great Hall, and we were sitting on opposite sides of the room! I'm positively sure that's the reason I couldn't remember how to spell away a deranged marmoset." Jezebel's normally pale neck and upper chest were flushed with a rashy rose color, as was wont to happen when she got excited about something, and Virginia smirked, her minty green eyes infused with suppressed mirth.

Severus stared around himself, taking in his common room. Regardless of the Gryffindor geniality that their common room conveyed, he would always appreciate his more. It was an elegant, refined area, located in the deepest parts of the castle, but it didn't go without natural light. The castle hovered on the edge of a cliff and was built directly into the craggy rocks. Slytherin common room, being in the dungeons, was built directly into the face of the cliff and so offered a spectacular view of the lake and dark forest.

The common room was blessed with two fireplaces, each on the two walls adjacent to the common room entrance. Directly opposite the entrance was a huge, mullioned window draped in envy green curtains. The window was flanked by two smaller bay windows. Next to each fireplace was a staircase leading down deeper into the cliffs, the left side leading to female dormitories, the right leading to male. All the couches and armchairs were upholstered in black leather, and the coffee and side tables were crafted in shiny, ebony wood. The floors were roughly hewn stone covered in most areas by plush, rich green carpeting. Green lamps hung from the ceiling by grey metal chains and bookshelves and portraits of famous Slytherins lined the walls.

By now, most of the common room had emptied out, all of the lower years having already retired. The only people left were those expected.

"Looks like the meeting's starting," Judas said, glancing over to the fireplace from his lounge-chair. Sure enough, a group of people were congregated there, clogging the sofas and armchairs, and some were standing around rather awkwardly with their hands jammed into their pockets or their arms folded across their chests, staring around glumly. In front of the fire stood two seventh year students, eagerly waiting to hold their last meeting.

Severus and his friends stood up and meandered over to the other students. When they got closer, they noted a few new faces that they had most certainly seen in classes and around Hogwarts, but never at these meetings.

Vespa Cormack and Sebastian Puckle, two seventh years, were the heads of the unofficial club that met once a month during the school year. The meetings were usually held in the Slytherin common room around 11 p.m., and it was generally common, although strictly unspoken, knowledge that those Slytherins not attending the meeting had better clear off and mind their own business.

Their club, for lack of a better word, had been put together probably ten years ago, unofficially banded when the Dark Lord had begun his ascent into power. Of course, he had only gone public in the last five or six years, but had encouraged his strongest supporters to begin instilling his rules and guidelines into their children before they even graduated Hogwarts. Typically, a Slytherin student was invited in to the club when they started their fifth year at Hogwarts, and if they accepted, they were sworn in to absolute secrecy. Of course, most invitees attended the first meeting of the year and decided they wished to participate, but those who didn't were subjected to a rather strong memory charm, and went along their merry way.

The club had such strict rules that it forbade anyone of mentioning it at all in passing, unless it was alluded to in the most obscure way, as only a Slytherin was capable of. Because of this, only Slytherin students were allowed to invite members of other houses to attend. Most often, the smartest Ravenclaws were those who expressed their interest or support of the Dark Lord, and so a Slytherin member of the USDL (Unofficial Sycophants of the Dark Lord) was dispatched to invite them to attend a meeting. The club had only ever played host to four Hufflepuffs during its entire running and no Gryffindors ever.

The Dark Lord was infinitely merciful to those underage students, and so while the students were unofficial supporters of him, they were allowed to waiver in their decisions and advocating of him. Students were always allowed to stop attending the club meetings, at the dispense of all of their memories of it, of course, but this was strongly discouraged by the club heads and the leading families behind the club's existence. Of course, this little courtesy was forgotten when the student turned seventeen and officially became a Death Eater.

Severus was jarred from his recollections by Jezebel, whose elbow had knocked him while she was handing over her wand to Vespa, and he quickly retrieved his as well and forfeited it. When all of the wands were collected, they were placed on the small coffee table in front of the fireplace and Sebastian activated a spell with a whisper of jumbled Latin. Immediately, each wand stood up vertically, balanced on nothing except for the magic flowing out of them now, and mercurial black light shot out of the tip of each, arcing up and pouring back into the heads of their owners. The spell was still for a moment, and then the beams changed direction, so that now the shafts of black light were pointed towards the ceiling, before collapsing down around the outer edges of their group in a slate colored waterfall of light. They were encased in a transparent, shimmering globe supported wholly by their wands.

This spell had three main purposes. The first was to ensure that none of the attendees had any sort of conspiratorial thoughts about the meeting. If they did, as soon as the black beam of light entered their head, it would turn a sanguine red. Secondly, the dome they were now encased in was more like a cage, forbidding anyone from leaving until the spell was deactivated. Lastly, any passer-bys who unwittingly stumbled into the common room late at night would not notice anything amiss, and they were discouraged from coming anywhere near the fireplace. It was a handy little ward spell, invented by the Dark Lord himself.

"Hem, hem," Vespa cleared her throat, stilling the murmuring voices around her. "I'd like to welcome our two newest members, sworn in this morning: Liam Titzel and Chantel Porter from Ravenclaw." She indicated the two of them with a sweeping motion of her left arm, and they smiled sheepishly. Everyone clapped half-heartedly, while Sebastian handed Liam and Chantel their official handbooks of USDL, written by the Dark Lord himself. (These, of course, were also protected by a series of powerful spells, and each book assumed the appearance of Clarus Punctum's Guide to Dissolving Stubborn Spots Forever when in public.)

"Does anyone have any particular discussion requests before we further tonight's meeting?"

Frederick Wilkes, one of Severus' other friends from his year, raised his hand and spoke, "Do we ever have summer meetings?" he inquired.

"No, never," Sebastian answered promptly. "It says it all in your handbook, but we never conduct summer meetings."

"Well, do you still want us to recruit during the summer?" Tori Shelsher, another Slytherin in Severus' year, asked.

"No," Vespa replied, slightly aggrieved. "You fifth years, if you ever bothered to read your handbook, all these questions would have already been answered. Now, would anyone else like to ask Sebastian and I more vapid questions, or can we get on with it?"

No one said much of anything.

"Great," she said shortly. "First things first, it's mine and Sebastian's last meeting, as I'm sure you all know, so we have to announce our successors. After great deliberation, we have chosen sixth years Rodolphus Lestrange and Saloma Yaxley who, out of all of the sixth years, have dedicated most of their time and energy to our cause." She paused and applauded Rodolphus and Saloma, who had stepped forward and given little bows of pleasure. "Good luck next year, I'm sure you two will do as good as any in the past. See Sebastian and I after the meeting for more exact guidelines of leadership."

Severus glanced across the group of people and met Rodolphus' eyes. He smirked slightly, and Severus inclined his head in a congratulatory nod.

"Okay, now I think we can discuss the book you all were supposed to read over the last month, or at least skim. You all can get into your little groups and discuss." Vespa shooed them away.

Severus turned to the other students in his year. They all took out one of the books on the fifth year reading list the Dark Lord had compiled. It was quite a simple book, detailing grade A level dark spell work.

"Okay, chapter one…"

Soon the meeting was over.

And Severus' eyes were hurting a rather lot from reading all of the extra notes Jezebel had passed around (she was, of course, the over-achiever of his Slytherin class). He dully noted Sebastian was performing the spells to end the meeting, and his wand was returned to him. He also recalled bidding good night to his fellow classmates. While Jezebel had been going over the book, he had fallen into a sort of stupor, with the layers and layers of gray matter he used to occlude filling the top half of his mind. He could behave as if everything were normal, could act and speak as if nothing were out of sorts, but underneath it all a pewter cauldron full of turmoil bubbled.

Severus couldn't stop thinking about Lily; her words were echoing in his ears; her voice had been imbued with cold, detached pain; her eyes had migrated towards the forest green color they became when she was livid about something. Severus knew she was absolutely right, that he had been changing, transforming into those people she had grown to abhor.

He wouldn't be able to stand living anymore if he became one of those people.

_She couldn't hate you,_ a small voice in his head whispered, consoling him. _She knows you love her. Even if she never talks to you again it isn't out of hatred, it is out of fear._

A cold fist of ice clenched around his stomach muscles, and he screwed his eyes shut in agony. The fire in the grate closest to him was emitting a sort of glowing warmth from its dying embers, but his insides still felt glacial, as if he had just ingested two pounds of ice mice.

He couldn't help but feel as if his whole infatuation with Lily had built up and rested on those few moments in which his course of action would determine if she could ever love him. He had always thought that she probably never would. What did he have to offer her? He used to think that if he could perhaps be slightly more understanding of those around him, perhaps not have a tendency to be so bitter, maybe she could be more inclined to see him as more than just an acquaintance.

A hollow tapping noise interrupted his musings, and he unlatched the window closest to him to let in soggy summer air and an auburn colored owl the size of his hand. In one of her talons she gripped a rolled up piece of paper tied together with several long, shiny strands of black hair.

Severus rolled his eyes and plucked the letter roughly out of the owl's talons, who looked vexed at his crassness. He just sneered at her, and turned back to the armchair he had vacated, leaving the window open behind him so the owl could exit silently.

He ripped the pieces of hair from the parchment savagely, and tossed them on top of a particularly hot looking coal, momentarily enjoying the way they whipped into ashes almost immediately. Then, he turned back to his post.

"Meet me outside, the usual."

Her excessively flourished signature followed the script. Saloma Yaxley usually overdid everything at least two-fold, if not three. Severus actually found himself wondering on several occasions how she had been sorted into Slytherin, for she was the opposite of subtle in every way. Of course, she was very wily where it counted, but needed severe lessons on impulse control. Severus thought she must have threatened the sorting hat with a shredding hex if she wasn't sorted into Slytherin.

Severus tossed the letter atop the cindered ashes of hair, waiting for the corners of the pages to curl up around the edges before turning to exit the Common Room.

He found her about twenty minutes later, halfway between the lake and the forest, nestled in a small grove of trees. She was leaning up against an old, dilapidated well, casually tossing pebbles in and enjoying the echoing song they chorused as they struck the water.

"Be careful of Mother Holle," he said, smirking slightly. "We all know you wouldn't crawl back out covered in gold."

She duly ignored him. She plucked the pile of pebbles waiting to be thrown up off the edge and threw them all in at once. They made a loud "puhlunking" noise, and she dusted her hands off in satisfaction.

"So," Severus said after a few moments of silence, drawing out the vowel. "What did you need this time?"

She wrinkled her rather long nose in contemplative thought, and reached into one of her pockets to pull out a folded piece of parchment.

"Rosey sent me this today," she said, referring to one of her family's house elves. "I needed to make sure we had the last artifact at my house, and that we had the book. She says my father keeps it in his study, which is nearly impossible to get in to. I will need to ask Tucker for the pass codes, he probably knows them."

Severus inwardly chuckled at her brother's ridiculous name. "He won't be suspicious as to why you want them?"

"No," she answered shortly. Severus supposed she must have her own reasons she didn't want to divulge, and he really couldn't care. "Here are all the ingredients for one of the potions we need in the meantime. I was able to find out what one of them was, so here. Some of the things are pretty rare, I think, that's why I'm giving them to you so early. I trust the summer holidays will be enough time to retrieve them."

He glanced down at the list quickly. Suma, hyssop, blood of hellhound and, oddly enough, honey, were what jumped out at him first, and the rest didn't seem too out of sorts.

"Any special requests the potion might have?"

"It needs to be brewed on the autumnal equinox, but it can be kept in stasis," she replied mildly. " The potion will need to be ready for the Dark Lord around the time of Samhain. Mark that on your calendar," she said in a pococurante manner, as if she were telling him the weather forecast for tomorrow, and that he should be sure to wear a rain jacket. "I should know when I can retrieve the item and the book with the rest of the four spells and potions, and I'll owl you with the date. Did you destroy my note?"

No fail, every time they met like this, she asked him.

"Yes, it should be burnt to a crisp now, along with your hair which, I find myself having to say this, is somewhat vile. Don't you have ribbon or wax or something? Muggles use rubber bands."

She shuddered slightly at the mention of Muggles. "You can always know it's from me when I do that. It's not as if I signed the letter in blood or something."

"Not a far cry off," Severus muttered, but she pretended not to hear him. "Congratulations on your newly appointed status," he offered, now that their formal business had been taken care of.

"So, did you and your little girlfriend have a fight?" she asked after a few moments of awkwardly toying with a torn string on her robes. She dropped her hands to her sides, and peered back down into the well, her long eyelashes casting shadows on the bridge of her nose.

Severus ground his teeth together in irritation.

"Does it have anything to do with what transpired down by the lake earlier?" she continued. He was sure she could smell his agitation, and yet she was just being Saloma. "I overheard some third-year Hufflepuffs gossiping about it, sounds simply dreadful."

"First of all, Lily Evans is **not** my girlfriend," Severus said through clenched jaw, "as I have reminded you on countless occasion. Addressing your actual, rudely worded, question, yes."

"Because you called her mudblood?" she pressed further.

Severus stood there, slightly irritated that Saloma, whom he never even spoke to during the day, had heard all of this gossip already, and it had barely just happened. "Among other things," he relented. "Like the controversial company I keep."

"You know, I'm going to offer my advice, even though most likely you do not wish to hear it. You are kind of closeted about the whole 'Evans' thing. We Slytherins have been very understanding, if not implicitly supportive, about the whole operation, and she can't offer you the same courtesy? I've been wondering for a while if you fancy the notion of love." She let her words hang suspended in the air.

"Saloma, I'm not going to talk to you about this sort of thing," Severus replied, piqued at her. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised the word 'love' is even in your vocabulary."

"Oh please," she sniped, waving her pale hand around gracelessly. "You're being positively juvenile. I just thought you would like to know that you are being weird about this entire situation. Is it really that big of a deal? You have friends in Slytherin, you're true friends, and she's a _Gryffindor_. I mean, honestly!"

Severus remained silent, and began contemplating heading back to his dormitory to get a few hours of sleep before the train ride home the following morning.

"It couldn't have gone on much longer, you know," she said, wasp venom infusing into her quiet voice. "You will be seventeen in less than two years, I hardly doubt the Dark Lord would approve of one of his supporters being sweet on a Muggle-born Gryffindor; he would forbid it. He has those powers, you know."

"There is nothing going on!" Severus yelled, balling his hands into tight fists at his sides.

"All right, if you insist," she replied serenely. Her eyes teetered on something for a short second, a small internal struggle, and then she shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Very well, I should be going. Adieu." And she turned on her heel and vanished after a few moments.

Severus rolled his eyes in slight chagrin. If he looked close enough, he could see the air in her general direction waver slightly as she slinked away. Saloma, intent on appearing as mysterious as possible at all times, insisted on Disillusioning herself whenever she saw fit. He turned away from the well, and began walking in the opposite direction, out into the heady summer moonlight.

Slivered patches of brilliance rained down around him, illuminating the landscape almost as clearly as daylight. Severus knew that if he ventured back to his bed, he would merely toss and turn, unable to sleep for thoughts of Lily would invade his mind, and so he set off around the grounds, paying very little attention to his surroundings. He was too lost in thoughts of despondency and despair to truly appreciate the beauty of the grounds in twilight.

A/N: Comments welcome and appreciated. Also, thanks a lot to my beta reader MRSSPICY!! She is working on an epic Sev/OC at the moment, check it out if you have a chance!


	3. New Mills, Derbyshire

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Three: **New Mills, Derbyshire

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_The present's just a pleasant interruption to the past." Something Corporate_

I stepped off the Hogwarts Express and stared around Kings Cross station at the hustle and bustle of the other students greeting their families. I felt a rough nudge from behind me, and realized Josie was pushing her trunk down the stairs and it was prodding the backs of my calves. I quickly stepped out of the way, and waited for the two of them to disembark before we made our way through the platform, dragging our trunks along behind us rather uncomfortably.

We said our goodbyes quickly, and I turned to the rather trying task of finding my parents. They did try so hard to blend in and it was quite infuriating at times. I finally spotted my mother hovering around a tall lamppost towards the front of the station and trudged over to her, my brow already bathed in sweat.

"Hello, darling," she said to me as soon as we were in hearing range. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed my forehead.

"Where's dad?" I asked her. I had long since learned not to ask why Petunia hadn't joined them to pick me up from school.

"You're father had a lot of work to get through, he just simply couldn't make it. He'll be at the office until late this evening," she explained. "Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich or anything?"

"No, not really," I replied. "Breakfast this morning was really big, and then there were sweets and things on the train."

"I really don't want you eating a lot of sweets, Lily," my mother chided. "Our train leaves from platform three, love, in about ten minutes. We should get going."

We boarded our assigned car, stowed my luggage, and then my mother began asking me questions about Severus, and why I wasn't flooing home with him the way we usually did.

"Mum, can we not talk about this?"

"Why not? I think it is just a tad my business."

I just told her we had a row and left it at that. If I even tried to extrapolate, my body would not let me. Every time I even thought of Severus, an awful block of coal lodged itself in my throat and I simply couldn't speak.

Before I knew it, we were pulling into New Mills Newtown station.

"I parked the car just over here," my mother said, and she led the way into the dark parking lot. We both got in, and the car made a great show of sputtering and spitting before the engine revved up underneath us. My mother put it in gear and then drove the short ways from the station to home.

I had been nothing short of astonished that my mother had learned to drive my father's car. Of course we only had the one car, as my mother stayed at home, but it proved endlessly useful now that she could drive. She didn't have a license or anything though, (getting a license was an expense she didn't see as worthy of investing in), but my father didn't see it as that big of a deal, so nobody else in our family did.

My mother was a good housekeeper. Our house, while not being particularly modern or large in any way, always smelt like lemon and sparkles, and was always clean. She even managed to banish the scent of cigar smoke from my father's coveted indulgence.

The house was modestly sized, and was large enough for the four of us to nurse our own spaces when needed. We hadn't upgraded to color TV yet, we had two record players, and my parents had recently invested in a newfangled freezer.

Lovely rhododendron, azalea and hydrangea bushes surrounded our house and permeated the exterior in a watercolor of hues and sickeningly sweet scents in the spring and summer. Our lawn was pretty small, and so when the bushes took over, there was very little grass to be seen.

When I got inside with my trunk behind me, the first thing I saw was Petunia sitting at the telephone table in the hall, spewing away some gossip to one of her friends. She barely even glanced at me as I set my trunk down and walked past her into the kitchen. The smell of potatoes and carrots wafted from a casserole simmering in the oven, and I realized then how hungry I was. I hurriedly set the kitchen table with plastic dinner plates and tumblers, and then went to the room Petunia and I shared.

The window was open, and before I even turned the lights on I could feel heavy air rifling through the room. On the perch of the open window, trying desperately to avoid touching the lacy curtains, was Severus' snooty black owl Audra. I ground my teeth in irritation, and shoved my trunk up against the foot of my bed violently.

Clutched in Audra's claws was a roll of parchment sealed with a bit of yellowish wax. I opened up my trunk and went about sorting through my clothes, putting them in my wardrobe, and setting my books out so that I could begin my homework the following morning. I ignored Audra for as long as possible, until the incessant clicking sound she was making with her beak was more than I could bear. I snatched the letter out of her talons, and if she had eyebrows, they would have risen in condescension.

It might have been potentially humorous, that Severus could bestow his sarcasm and arrogance on other people when he wasn't even present, but I certainly wasn't in the mood to appreciate the drollery behind his owl staring me down. So I swiftly broke the seal and pored over the contents.

It was merely a missive asking for more forgiveness. I wouldn't have written anything back, but Audra had probably been instructed to stalk my room until I wrote something, so I scribbled a simple **no** beneath his initial and thrust it at the owl, who was preening her feathers. She finished preening before taking the letter out of my hands and swooping out of my room.

Now that Audra was out of my way, I could observe my room fully. As I mentioned before, I did in fact share a room with Petunia. The room was divided in half by a long, black sheet, but other than this was quite plain. I had a simple wardrobe and bed, and a lamp on a small, propped up table next to my bed. The thing that caught your eye was my bookshelf. It was crammed full of tomes and reading material, both Muggle and wizard.

Grateful that dinner wasn't ready just yet, I sat at the foot of my bed and wondered what Severus was doing at that moment.

My house was on a dirty street about four or five blocks away from Severus'. It too lounged near a blackened, twisting river that played host to plastic bottles and cans and fast food wrappers. If my window was open on a miserably hot summer day, the stench that the river oozed out would drift into my bedroom. Low-rising fences that were once white but had been stained by the dust that the mill spat out separated the houses. Each house was built in the same style and was bordered with overgrown pathways looping back around to the minuscule backyard.

Several streets north was the local primary school, where I had attended class until I received my Hogwarts letter.

I had no Muggle friends. All during primary school, Petunia had been the only friend I had ever needed. Most of the other students had thought I was strange and a bit too smart. Of course, I had excelled in every subject in school, as they were terribly easy for me. My parents and teachers had always wondered how I had managed so well with barely any study. The answer had eventually come when Professor Dumbledore had came to our house and informed us that I was in fact a witch who of course would have an easy time with Muggle studies! My primary school teachers still thought I was a prodigy, but I was most certainly fine with that.

However, the greatest joy in my life had been paralleled by my greatest sorrow. I gained acceptance into a new world, and lost some of the only love I had possessed in my world.

I learned at the ripe age of eleven that all good things in life must be paid for. I would never forget how my sister had abandoned me, rather than embraced me. While it is natural to learn these sorts of lessons throughout life, when I allowed my mind to wallow in sorrow, I felt as if I had lost one of the most precious things in life much too soon.

During past summer holidays, when I wasn't spending time with Severus, I took long walks around Derbyshire, merely to avoid being in the same vicinity as Petunia. I loved her unconditionally, but when such love was not reciprocated, how was immersing myself in negativity allowing myself to heal?

The entire region of Britain was encased in drought the summer of 1975. The grass crunched underfoot, yellow and parched. My mothers usually flourishing bushes were sporting limp leaves when I had arrived home, and two weeks into holidays, they lay in a puddle of leafy appendages at the roots of bushes. The entire island had been forbidden from using water hoses, but it wasn't as if this was a problem in New Mills. Most of the homeowners didn't give a rat's arse about their lawns, and so many bedraggled skeletons of bushes once green reigned supreme in the yards adjacent to my parents' house.

Being the exceptionally good student that I prefer to be, I had already finished all of my schoolwork. The first two weeks of my holiday were spent writing essays and reading required books to prepare myself for Potions training. I spent two and a half days doing one hundred Arithmancy problems, which took longer than necessary because I hadn't bought the required number pad yet. The rest of the two weeks were spent compiling long, tedious essays and defining vocabulary words.

After this, I had very little to do, except to wait until I was expected at Emily's house. I could barely wait for this to come, if only to escape the cloud of tension that hovered over the house when I was there. During most daytime hours of the summer, I wandered the streets of New Mills.

I didn't even bother with summer work in those days. It wasn't as if I was lazy; my parents didn't see the need for me to ever have to work a Muggle job. Petunia held a common full-time job at a menial clothing store, and I gathered from her general conversation that she enjoyed it: it was perhaps her first opportunity to make real friends.

I guess we were both something of a freak in those days.

Before Severus and I had our row, we would spend most summer days strolling around New Mills, conversing on a little bit of everything. I felt we could never run out of things to say to one another, no matter how many subjects we covered over and over again. Now I roamed the streets myself, almost something of a ghost. It was hard to imagine my summer being more miserably boring, but how was I supposed to forgive him? His speech, unforgivingly raunchy that day, ran in strings of sound through my head when my thoughts were given chance to fester.

Excitement was only offered me in the form of Petunia Rows, which I began to encourage as the summer wore on.

Petunia Rows were usually spurred by discussions of my "abnormality," or perhaps the arrival of an owl. In summers past, I had tried my absolute hardest to avoid altercation, as my parents really did spurn unnecessary dramatics, but the summer of '75 met at least one argument a day. I made sure the owls I received only came when Petunia was home, I constantly mentioned news in the wizarding world that could have gone by without vocalization, and I was always talking rather loudly about something I had done at school that year, so that my voice might carry up the stairwell and into her dopey ears. Waiting for our daily arguments began to elicit anticipation in me. It's true, the arguments carried much the same form each day, but this never became boring. I woke each morning with a small seed pulsating in my stomach. Sometimes if I woke early enough, I could catch Petunia before she left for work, and the seed could be satiated, but most days I had to wait until later in the evening.

Three weeks into holidays, the following episode ensued:

_Dinner was being called. I raced down the stairs into the kitchen to help prepare the table._

"_Did Petty go out?" I asked my mother, who was using a spatula to lift biscuits off a cooking sheet. I had noticed lack of noise from her side of our bedroom, but hadn't thought to even peek my head through a gap in the curtains. She would have had a miserable fit, and that day I had been reading a book from the Hogwarts library I took out on extended loan, so I didn't feel like dealing with her theatrics. _

"_Yes, I forgot to tell you she wanted another place set for dinner, she's having company eat with us this evening."_

"_Oh," I replied._

_This should be fun. Petunia's suitors were always rather large men, always at least two years older than she, and always rude. She was also always meaner than usual towards me when they were around._

_Upon receiving this information, I went to the cupboard to retrieve another set of dishes and soon enough we were all sitting down at the dinner table, properly enjoying one another's company._

_Or not._

"_So Petty," I started conversationally, as we were all tucking into our salads. "How was your day?"_

_Petunia glanced up at me from underneath a thick brow, and her upper lip twitched as if she were fighting back cruel words. Her boyfriend-of-the-moment flicked his eyes back and forth between the two of us, as if he didn't know what to think or say, and after another moment, our staring contest ended. Petunia, always being a hypocrite, fought her own system whenever a friend of hers happened to be over, and decided to play my game._

"_It was fine," she replied, plucking a cherry tomato off the end of her fork with her buckish teeth. "You know," she continued, the tomato juice swishing around in her mouth. "Normal."_

"_That's perfectly marvelous," I replied cheerfully. "My day was particularly satisfying as well. I got a letter from school telling me all about my scores from end-of-year tests, and explaining all of the courses I qualified for next year."_

"_That's wonderful, Lily!" my mother said. "Do tell us how your marks ended up turning out."_

_My mother was always so good at playing my little games, even if she didn't ever realize what it is I was doing. Oh, I loved her to death._

"_You go to the same school Petunia attended?" her date asked._

"_No," I started. "I go to Kent College Pembury boarding school." I gave him a weird look, as if to challenge the lie I was absolutely sure Petunia had told him earlier in their date. "__I received top marks in all of the subjects, and the letter informed me that I'm still Top Student of my year, detailing the possibility I may become Head Girl in one year!"_

"_What an accomplishment that would be. I'm so proud of you," my father fawned._

_Petunia's face was glowering. All I had to do was wait for her fool-of-a-boyfriend to take the bait I had laid out for him._

"_Petunia, dear," he said, turning to her with a questioning look blanketing his face. "You never told me anything about this school when we discussed our education."_

_Victory!_

"_Actually," she replied. "I-I ended up attending a different school."_

"_She didn't have the marks to get into Kent," I answered promptly._

"_No, I went to a much more prestigious school than hers," Petunia retorted, her speech getting more and more frantic. "It's the very best in all of England, although it's very small and not very well known at all."_

"_You don't mean New Mills Business College, do you?" my mother demanded of Petunia.__ "Over on Church Lane?"_

"_Mother, I never attended some public secondary school," Petunia said pointedly, trying to get my mother to play along with her game, but it was already too late._

"_Petunia, you told me earlier today that you attended Taunton School," her date demanded. "I can't force myself to be in the presence of someone mediocre." And he stood up abruptly from the table, causing the contents in the glasses to shake violently, threw his napkin on top of his plate, and stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him._

_Petunia glared at me, tears forming in her eyes. "Why did you do that, Lily?" she demanded of me._

"_Do what?" I asked innocently, picking at my beans._

"_You knew the entire time what you were doing, and I really liked him," she replied, and without further ado, pushed her chair back from the table and ran up the stairs. A door slammed shut loudly._

_I should have felt bad, I know. But there were more times than I could count that she had completely humiliated me in front of company, explaining that I attended a mental institution for three quarters of the year, and making up stories about trouble I had gotten into. She most certainly deserved what she got that night._

***

The very next day was rainy and gray and there was really nothing more to be done than curl up on one of the armchairs in the living room with one of my more innocent choices of perusal. My hair was pulled back, as usual, and my reading glasses perched on my stuffy nose, and I was actually able to get in a few hours of wholly undisturbed leisure. My father was at his day job, no doubt partaking in his own amusements behind his individual cubicle, my mother was running household errands, and my Petunia dear wasn't due to return for several more hours. Mind you, I was quite comfortable with sitting in the same spot all afternoon and well into the evening, listening to the soft drumming of sooty rain on the shutters, but Merlin never likes people to sit.

Of course not.

Heaven forbid, if there is such thing, of course. I'm not sure about Wizarding deities, but I've come to believe anything's possible. I was about to be disturbed rather too unforgivingly, but as I had come to welcome anything that afforded excitement those days, I could look past the interruption of my reading and really enjoy the meat of the arguments.

Now back to my leisure time. Whatever was I reading, you ask? Well, it so turns out that I was indulging in one of my lesser-known loves: History, and not the magical kind either. Ever since primary school started, and that very first day our teachers took it upon themselves to trudge forward into the muck of History, separating fact from fiction and bestowing it upon their innocent, naïve six year olds, had I realized my love. Every morning of each school day I sat eagerly waiting for history, for at the time I felt that this was the sole reason for my attending and participating in class.

History to me then was like magic to me now. I can, in no way conceivable, get enough of it. It is my muse, dazzling me more each second with its wonders and secrets.

Of course, I could never deny myself transcendence into the stimulating waters of such fascination, so one may find me this day scrutinizing a text involving Marxism and Leninism. I had always been particularly interested in such ideals, not because I wished one day to dictate over all, but that I was concerned about others psychological well-being. World War II was ostensibly an exceptionally significant time period to me, and I treated it thus. Many books in my room were devoted to the era.

Midday it was, and I was just covering the parallels of Marxism and Leninism, when the key in the front lock stirred, and my Petunia dear let herself in. Closely following her were her two closest associates, if you could call anyone Petunia spent an ample amount of time with close.

Agatha Millerd, and one Meggy Dillsworth.

They were both so utterly ordinary that I pondered retreating to my room before they had seen me, but than thought better. Manners had always been much more important to me then downright frankness.

I recognized them by their voices, for when Agatha talked, all one heard unless one was much better acquainted with her was a high-pitched hoot. Juxtaposing this entirely was Meggy, whose range mingled in the tenor zones. I was amazed Petunia could stand the noises for more than a few moments.

But then, Petunia can be placed in a class all her own, so who really knows what went on inside her horsey head?

"I wonder if the freak's home," I heard Petunia say.

"You mean Lily?" I heard Meggy ask.

"Of course," Petunia replied nastily. "What other freak lives here?"

I inwardly snorted.

"LILY!" I suddenly heard erupt from the foyer. "LILY, COME DOWN HERE, WE HAVE COMPANY!"

I was astounded. I had no idea why she would want me alerted to the fact that other people were here. I know for a fact that she hated when I bestowed my company on her friends. Perhaps she was in a particularly foul mood and just wanted to play with me.

I thought for the moment, why not play along?

"There's no reason to yell, you know," I said calmly, and she poked her head in the doorway to the living room. "Some people do traverse more areas of the house than just their bedroom during the day."

She stood in the doorway for a moment, and chewed on her tongue rather furiously. Then she took a seat, and Agatha and Meggy followed her.

"Good afternoon," I said pleasantly.

Agatha and Meggy nodded in my general direction, but Petunia acted as if I had said nothing at all.

"Tea?" I offered eagerly, setting my book aside and jumping up.

Petunia made an ugly face at this suggestion, but nodded her consent anyway. So I busied myself in the kitchen, arranging a tea tray with a frilly teakettle and matching teacups, and placing the fancy teacakes my mother had made the evening before on a silver tray.

"So," I announced, as I trounced back into the room. I placed both trays on the coffee table in the center of the room and then occupied myself with the sugar cubes. "What's been going on lately?"

Agatha and Meggy looked to Petunia for guidance in this speculation, but she ignored them, pouring herself a steaming cup of tea. "What's it to you?"

"Mere curiosity," I replied, as I waited for my tea to cool.

"Enjoying your tea cake?" I asked Meggy, who had just sunk a mediocre set of teeth into one. Everything about the poor girl was, after all. "My mother just made them yesterday. She is the finest cook in all of New Mills, I must say. Has Petunia ever told you?"

"Excuse me," Agatha interrupted, "But actually, I believe the cooks in my house are the best, considering my father owns Millerd's Drilling Firm."

Apparently this had some meaning of consequence. I took it in stride.

"But of course," I replied politely, smiling slightly.

My tea seemed to have cooled by this time, and so I took a slow sip, arching an eyebrow at the occupants of the room over the rim of my cup.

We sat in utter silence for a few moments, finishing our tea and crumpets. When the dregs of my tea finally met my eye level, I set my cup down on the saucer with a resounding clink, and smiled smarmily at all three girls.

"Agatha," I started, turning to the girl. I suppose you might think she was pretty. I'm sure those who hadn't really ever come to know her thought so. But once one shook her hand, all ideas of beauty vanished. She was every part snooty and vain, and she didn't mind putting it on display for others to see. "I overheard Petunia telling our mum you recently went on holiday to Morocco. How was it?"

"Eavesdropping? You're just as bad as Petunia always has said, you know. Just as well, why do you care how it was there? You're a bit too nosy, if you want my opinion," she sniffed.

"I don't recall ever asking for it, honestly," I replied thoughtfully.

"You have some nerve talking to me like that," Agatha said angrily, her red lips twisting into a sneer.

"I told you what a smart arse she fancies herself to be," Petunia said matter-of-factly, arranging her plate and tea cup neatly on the tea table next to her. She set her spoon in between the two dishes, arranging it in a perfectly straight line, ensuring the space on either side was even, before going on. I inwardly scorned her obsessiveness. "But don't let it bother you, Aggy. I haven't taken her seriously in ages, you really shouldn't either."

"Petunia," she snapped suddenly. "I've told you hundreds of times not to call me Aggy. My name's Agatha. Do you want me to start calling you Petty?"

"I do sometimes," I said, my voice exuding mock cheer. Petunia shot me a death glare, one that I'm sure would have done Severus Snape proud.

"Shut up, Lily! Just go away, you don't do anything here but sit around and read your stupid, freakish books. I most certainly don't need you and neither does mum and dad. Just leave!" she shrieked.

I was very used to these kinds of things coming out of Petunia's mouth.

"Petunia's still upset about what happened last night at dinner," I explained soberly to Agatha and Meggy. "I'm sure she told you about it. Honestly, all I was thinking of was friendly conversation."

"Don't lie!" Petunia shouted. "I knew you were up to something the moment we all sat down to dinner. You think you're so clever, prancing around with your books and your quills and your goddamned bloody owl! Well let me tell you something, and maybe after all these times, it will finally penetrate that awful head of yours. You're nothing special, nothing at all. I can't wait until August is over. Then you'll be back at that... at that school, and I won't have to see your face for another ten months!"

She had finally ended her tirade. She and I were both lucky that Agatha and Meggy weren't the brightest of people, because I really didn't fancy explaining why I had an owl. When Petunia had mentioned Lotte, I had glanced to the two older girls to assess their reactions, but Agatha had been busy analyzing her nail bed, and Meggy had been eyeing a teacake.

"You can have another one," I told her calmly. I wasn't about to become disturbed by Petunia's words.

"Come on girls," Petunia said suddenly, standing up and heading to the door. Agatha and Meggy stood up as well.

"Goodbye, Lily," Meggy said hurriedly as the front door opened. "Thanks for tea."

"My pleasure," I replied sweetly.

After they left, I set to tidying the room and then turned to Marxism vs. Leninism once more.

A/N: Comments welcome. Thanks also to my beta MRSSPICY.


	4. Aberystwyth

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Four:** Aberystwyth

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way." - Metallica_

_July 12 – August 3, 1975_

Finally it was time to venture to Emily's house. I was taking the Knight Bus to Aberystwyth, late that night. It would take a very long time to make my way by Muggle train, and I could not Floo there on my own: I knew of no Floo Networks in New Mills, and I'm sure Emily knew of none in Aberystwyth. Josie, who lived in Southern Britain, would be Apparating with her father sometime next day.

It was the first time I had ever ridden the Bus, and I was excited. I had heard Josie and Severus allude to it in conversation before, and I had gathered a general idea of how to summon it.

My luggage had been packed for close to a week in unbridled anticipation for the trip. My trunk waited impatiently in the middle of my small personal space, and I stared at it begrudgingly. It had become quite a hindrance the last couple of days: I sported dark bruises on both of my shins and three ripped toenails from having bumped into it so often.

I called down the stairs for my father to help me carry my trunk to the front stoop, and Petunia yelled from her bed for me to shut up.

"I packed you tons of food," my mother said to me, handing me a Muggle cooler. We were standing in front of the open door, my trunk being heaved down the stairs by my father. "Some sandwiches, and fruit salad, and a thermos with some juice. There is also a bag of crisps, fat-free, of course."

"Thanks, mum," I said, smiling to her.

"Have fun with your friends, and tell Mrs. Leach I say hello. Be careful on this Knight Bus, don't talk to anyone too barmy. Are you sure you should be going on this. It sounds awfully risky…" she tapered off.

I just gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and turned to my father to do the same. He had shoved my trunk up against the litter bins by the curb, and was standing in the doorway. I yelled a short good-bye up the stairs to Petunia more to irritate her and have the last word than anything else, and tightened my purse on my shoulder.

"Do you have enough money for the bus?" my mother asked.

"Yes mum," I said, lightly exasperated.

"Ok, well owl us when you get there. You are taking Lotte right?"

"Yeah, I sent her off a couple of hours ago. She should be there before dawn."

I gave them both one last kiss goodbye and went to stand next to my trunk. They waited for me to summon the Knight Bus; I turned to wave and commenced to pay the overtly zealous conductor. I settled on a bed next to a sagging old man who was drooling on the flattened pillow, and across from a freckly Irish woman who was knitting the largest afghan blanket I had ever seen.

I dug through my small purse as soon as my back was leaning against the thin pillow afforded me, although I might as well have been leaning against the naked metal headboard. My hands brushed against my wand, several notebooks, some lip balm, a huge textbook and the bag of food my mother had given me before finally lighting upon the paper-back book I had bought in one of the bookstores in Hogsmeade before end of term. I pulled it out and examined the cover.

Marxism and Leninism in Wizarding Societies

On the front was a picture of Vladimir Lenin, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, blended together so as to form one domineering and dark figure scowling at me. The book was the companion text to the book I had been reading when Petunia had interrupted me, written by Gavin Witte and I eagerly flipped through the first couple flyleaves and title pages to the preface, and settled in to read myself to sleep.

"I don't remember studying that stuff when I was at Hogwarts, dear," the woman across from me said. I glanced up and noticed she had faded brown eyes burrowed under heavy eyelids and wiry hair escaping out of small metal clips. Her knitting needles were flashing dully in the dim light afforded by the swaying chandelier.

"I'm just interested in this, is all," I explained.

"Interested in politics?" she asked me.

"And history, very much." I replied with relish, hugging the book eagerly to my chest.

"Hmm," she folded her lips to form a straight line as she stared across the aisle at me. "You look to be about fifteen or sixteen," she said. "What year are you in Hogwarts?"

"I'll be starting my sixth year," I said, setting my book down on my lap.

"I dropped out of Hogwarts after I got my O.W.L.'s," she said, not seeming to care if I was going to judge her. "I hated school."

I glanced at her face more closely, trying to gauge her age. She looked about fifty-five, a little bit more than a decade older than my parents, meaning she was probably born in the late twenties.

"I adore school," I juxtaposed, toying with a bent corner of the book.

"I'm guessing you must be pretty good at it, too," she replied, nodding her head at my small bag. "I'm amazed you could fit that book in there, without some sort of space-making spell."

"It's bottomless," I replied sheepishly.

"Impressive, I can barely manage a simple knitting spell," she said soberly.

I almost expressed my doubts, then wondered if maybe she was telling the truth after all. The poor woman hadn't even finished Hogwarts!

"So, do you have much opinion on the Minster right now?" she asked, her brown eyes jumping over the aisle to meet mine.

"I think he is doing a lot to help the Ministry recover from Mistress Leach's reign of terror. She destroyed the Ministries international relations, and didn't do too much good for the economy, either."

"This is very true, although were you even old enough to care about all of this when Mistress Leach was in office?"

"Of course not, and besides, I'm a Muggleborn. I read a lot of books about wizarding politics and society when I first found out I was a witch."

"Smart girl, most kids your age probably don't even know who Mistress Nobby Leach is!"

"I know a fair few who don't give a puffskeins underside – although I'm sure this sort of ignorance to politics will change soon enough," I replied, alluding to the almost omniscient cloud above us that was Lord Voldemort.

"Best not talk about those sort of things dear, it brings ill-will."

And although she hadn't said it directly, the anonymous woman wished for the conversation to come to an end. She tucked further into her knitting, and I into my reading, and I didn't even notice she was gone within the next two stops.

Finally we popped into Aberystwyth, rambling along a dirt road peppered in potholes. Just beyond the road to the right a cliff hung off into Cardigan Bay. The sun was barely rising in the eastern sky, glowing sanguine red, and so the ocean was not yet illuminated in light. Black clouds hovered close to the surface of the water, misty fingers barely grazing the cresting waves, and the sky above them was a deep-sapphire blue, tiny pockmarks of stars clinging to life in the pre-dawn light.

Dwarfed cottages sprang along the road, bordered by low-rising stone fences, a veneer of cool green moss growing over them, or groves of drooping pine trees standing just behind them. I could see rolled newspapers thrown unceremoniously on the pebbled walks and graveled drives, or hanging off stooped postboxes. Dewey teardrops from the night's moist breath clung to the wooden steps of porches or the screens of windows, and cast a lovely silver film over the grassy lawns.

Emily's house came into view around a bend. It sat a little bit off the road, and was one story, with dark blue shutters and a door to match. The back of the house had a covered porch out of which you could view the Bay. Emily's grandmother entertained Madison, Emily's sister, by planting a huge assortment of flowers, and she even had a vegetable and herb garden. Where there should have been green blocks of lawn, the woman had strewn hundreds of wildflower seeds, so it looked like a weedy, colorful sea skimmed by butterflies and bees. The post-box was overgrown with morning glory vines and thistle, and the weathered stone walkway was choking on day lilies.

I clambered off the bus, and before I had even made it halfway down the walk, Emily had burst through the door and ran at me. She reached around and grabbed the other end of my trunk, and we continued up the walk, the leaning stalks of the flowers tickling our calves. Her skin had acquired a rosy glow from mornings by the sea, which her younger sister Madison loved to frequent in the summer.

"Hey! How was the Knight Bus? Are you hungry? We can eat breakfast, or wait until Josie gets here."

"I'll just wait," I replied, my head swimming in tiredness. "I think I might nap for a few hours, if you don't mind. The people on the bus did not let me sleep at all."

"Oh of course," she said, as we pulled the trunk up the porch steps and pushed past the screen door. Open windows lit the interior brightly, and most of all the surfaces were covered in green plants. The front room was the living area, worn wooden floors covered in a huge circular rug. Several comfy sofas and armchairs were butted up against the walls, which were covered in intricate, and rather darkly themed, pencil drawings. To my right were two wooden doors, which lead to Emily's mother's room and Madison's room. Directly to my left was a bathroom, and beyond that was a doorway leading to the kitchen and eating area, and Emily's bedroom.

Emily's mother, Cecile, was made a widow at the age of 30, when Emily was nine and her younger sister, Madison, was three. Emily's father worked in one of the factories, and had died during a factory fire in 1968, leaving Cecile, Emily and Madison alone, the latter who had been diagnosed with autism at the age of two. She had been able to keep the house she and her husband had bought when his life insurance check had come through to them, but they had all had a hard life regardless. I had only visited Emily at her house once before, but I had come to see how difficult caring for Madison could be, no matter how much they loved her.

While Madison was autistic, she displayed unparalleled artistic capabilities. The walls of the house were covered in her detailed pictures of the sea, of various buildings around Aberystwyth and many of the locals, but most of the pictures she drew were imaginative productions of her own mind.

When Josie and I had come to visit for the first time several summers ago, we had gone directly from the Hogwarts Express to her house. Her grandmother had been our chauffer, and Emily had made sure there were pictures to show Josie and I, so that we could see how happy Emily's family had been before the fire.

After Mr. Leach had died, Mrs. Leach had been able to stay pulled together long enough to sign several power of attorneys and other documents, documents which gave her mother virtually total access to all of the money left, and total control over Emily and Madison, and this couldn't have been a more crucial action. When Mr. Leach had still been alive, Mrs. Leach had been admitted to the psychiatric ward one time, and had been deemed emotionally unstable. If anything were to happen to upset her life, it was predicted that she would spiral downward into a depression so deep and penetrating that she would no longer be able to function in everyday life.

Just days after the papers were signed Mrs. Leach developed a form of severe psychosis, and had to be committed to the same psych ward for several months. After this, she was always under the strictest supervision, and was at all times accompanied by a nursemaid, whom Emily and Madison had grown accustomed to calling Nona.

Nona had become a member of the family. An older woman whose husband had passed away a few years before she had been assigned to Cecile Leach, she had probably been just as lonely as Cecile had been. She had never had kids, her body's anatomy restricting her from that path of life, and so it did not take her long to adhere to Emily and Madison like a surrogate mother.

Mrs. Leach's mother had a small house built on the property, out of which she lived. There had been two suicide attempts to date, and several more episodes during which Ms. Leach had to be committed. Her mother felt obligated to be near her daughter and grandchildren at all times, so that they could experience the love and nurturing that their own mother could no longer provide for them.

The last time I had come to Emily's, her mother's depressive state had infected me to the verge of severe melancholia. I was certain this was not going to happen again, but just in case I had nicked about ten of my mothers anti-depression pills. They were in an invisible seam I had spelled into the lid of my trunk last term.

At that moment, Cecile walked into the room from the kitchen, a brooding melancholic air emanating from her body. Even clear across the room, I could see who Emily got her rain colored eyes from, although Cecile's were jaded with sadness and miserable regret. The corners drooped down like a basset hounds', and parenthetical lines outlined her mouth.

"Hello," she greeted me, not seeming to want to meet my gaze.

"Hello, Mrs. Leach," I replied, reluctant to smile too broadly, and feeling her ability to weigh heavily on my personality already.

At that moment, a slight nursemaid came up behind Mrs. Leach and grasped her upper arms gently, steering her to sit in one of the chairs farthest from us. She smiled apologetically at Emily as she passed, and nodded in familiar yet distant greeting to me.

"I set the camp beds up already," Emily said, turning her eyes away from her mother. We dragged my trunk further into the kitchen. At the table sat Madison, ten years old now, arranging her breakfast foods in front of her in an assembly line. She glanced up when we entered the room, and smiled widely at me. She had the most amazing memory I had ever come across; even though she was autistic, she could remember any face she met, and the name to match.

"Hello, Lily," she said, her hands still hovering above her banana slices and bits of torn toast.

"Hello," I said, smiling back to her.

"Are we going to the sea today?" she asked eagerly, her large brown eyes lighting up.

"I suppose," I said, turning to Emily.

"Madison, I take you to the ocean everyday," Emily said, exasperated.

"Not yesterday," she pointed out.

"Yes, yesterday I had to help Nona clean, you know that."

"Then we can go today! You aren't going to clean with Lily here, are you?"

Emily sighed heavily, and turned to me, a rueful frown creasing her forehead. I just shrugged.

"I don't really mind going to the ocean, I haven't even see it since last summer," I said.

"Let's see what Josie says," Emily said. "She may want to walk around town instead."

Madison went back to arranging her food.

"How is she doing?" I asked when Emily had closed the door to her room. I stared around at Emily's picture-adorned walls and canopied bed. Moss green paint peeked out at me from underneath the many pictures tacked to the walls. My eyes settled on one in particular, in which a pair of dark and brooding eyes were peeking sullenly out of a small crack in a wall or door.

"I don't know," she replied sadly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "It almost seems worse than last summer, I can't really tell."

She had set the camp beds up on either side of her bed and I picked one, and shoved my trunk underneath it.

I almost inquired after Emily's mother, but decided not to. While Emily was not shy about explaining to the ignorant what ailed her mother, once you were privy to the knowledge you had to understand that it was rarely, if ever, to be discussed.

"I'll leave you to sleep, then," Emily said, and I smiled through tired, filmy eyes. I was drifting into sleep before she had even closed the door.

I woke with a start several hours later, when someone opened the door quickly.

"Lily, wake up," I heard Josie say loudly. I rubbed my eyes slowly, and noticed she was carrying two plates covered in steaming food, courtesy of Nona, and Emily was closing the door behind her, carrying her own and a thermos, presumably filled with coffee.

Josie shoved the plate into my hands as I was sitting up in the bed. I plucked the fork up and started shoveling food into my mouth.

"I guess you weren't hungry," she said, smirking slightly. Her and Emily sat side-by-side on Emily's bed, facing me.

I didn't say anything in reply, just continued filling my mouth with fried egg and bangers.

Underneath Josie's right arm was the folded Prophet. After I had finished my eggs and sausage, I gestured to Emily to pass the thermos, and took several sips.

Josie had placed her tray of food on her lap and was unfolding the paper, examining the front cover.

"Why are you even bothering with that?" I asked her. "I didn't even think you cared about what was going on in the news."

"Don't be such a bint, Lily," she said from behind the paper. She was unfolding it and looking through the first couple of sections. "I'm looking for something in particular."

I took several more sips of coffee and handed the thermos back to Emily, who was halfway done her plate. I set my tray aside and lay back down on my side, facing them. My eyelids sifted downward, and I felt myself strung up in the limbo between wakefulness and slumber. The cobwebs of dreams Emily and Josie had burst through were beginning to rebuild themselves in the crevices of my brain; I could hear their chatter, but none of it made sense.

"Oh bugger, what I'm looking for isn't in here. I was hoping there would be an announcement article. Aunt Marlena is going to be teaching at Hogwarts! She is taking the Defense position!" Josie said excitedly.

I was too sleepy to respond.

"Lily, let's go down to the beach! Get up!"

"No. I just want to sleep." And I buried my head under my pillow.

"Honestly Lily, you're acting like Josie right now," I heard Emily say. Their laughter eased me into comfortable dreams.

"Has Snape tried keeping in touch with you?" Emily asked later that night. Dinner had been served several hours ago, and Josie, Emily and I had clambered down the wooden steps built into the cliffs face and were walking along the receding surf. It was a beautifully clear night. I could see straight above me the cloudy streak of stars that was our Milky Way, tracing its way through the sky. It looked like the trails of white smoke that fireworks left in their wake.

"Everyday," I replied. "Audra beings me a letter everyday."

Neither of them said anything. I don't really know what they would say, or if they were reluctant to make any comments. The thing between Severus and I had always been just that; no one else had ever understood, not even my mother. Perhaps Josie and Emily were just being good friends, and quelling their barrage of opinions out of respect, I really could not say.

"Are you still doing a special project with him and Slughorn this year?" she asked.

She was, of course, referring to the project that NEWT students started in their sixth years and continued on until their graduation. The professor for each subject selected the best two students in the field they were studying and asked them if they would like to assist him in break-through research he was doing in his field. It was basically an unpaid internship, and if any worthwhile discoveries were made during the students' help, their names went on the thesis project submitted to the Ministry.

"I don't know," I said. "I would like to, maybe I can just do it myself." I doubted I would be able to pull off such research alone, though.

"I'm sure someone else could do it with you."

"Maybe." But I knew that could not be. No one else in the school could compare to Severus' genius in potions, and it wouldn't be right.

"Maybe you should just get on with it," Josie said. She had been busying herself at the cliffs base, but had come back to join us. "I mean honestly, the boy has written you enough, done his penance."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "Why should she forgive him?" she demanded. "He is always going to be this way!"

"That's precisely the reason why she should forgive him! So he's prejudiced, everyone has a little bit of it in them. My father hates the Irish and quite frankly, I don't think they're that great of a bunch either."

"You are being irrational. This is a completely different thing! Muggleborns are being persecuted against right now, Josie! That's me and Lily! You cannot justify that just because everyone is a little bit prejudiced!"

"You think just because I don't keep up with the news like you and Lily do means I don't know what's going on? Just because I'm a pureblood, I couldn't have any idea about what the Muggleborns are dealing with?"

"Josie, that's not what I meant!"

"My father works in the Auror department, comes back with some stories he won't even tell me and Arabella, and you think I don't know?"

I could feel one of their rows coming on now. I guess it had really already started, when Josie had wandered over to give her two knuts to our conversation.

"Now you really sound unbelievable!" Emily said. Even though it was dark out, I imagined her hands balled into tight fists. "I absolutely hate when you accuse me of things like that."

"You're the one telling me I'm ignorant!"

"Well," she answered, and that was really all she had to say.

"You always have to do this, Emily. We are talking about something so small, and you morph it into such a bigger issue."

I felt sort of stunned that Josie was calling my relationship with Severus a small thing, but they both turned into felines when they argued with one another, and I really didn't fancy being the piece of dead meat they tore at in the middle, so I didn't say anything at all.

"You are just getting confused," Emily said, with a bit of sarcasm edging itself around her words. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and soon the tip of her cigarette flared into bright orange color. The flame from the lighter had illuminated the curves of her face, cast deep shadows under her mouth and nose and in her eyes, and the strands of hair that reached far out away from her head gleamed fiery yellow.

Josie just snorted in contention and turned away from Emily. I could see the outline of her body. Her hands were on her hips and she was shaking her head derisively.

"Everyone says things they don't mean, Lily," Josie said, turning to face me instead. "How can you let something someone said to you out of humiliation and anger really stick to you?"

"Josie, I can't believe you are being so naïve," Emily said, after a couple drags from her cigarette.

They continued bickering, and I turned away then, and walked closer to the surf, thinking about what Josie had been saying, and wondering if maybe she was right. She was so quick to forgive and forget though, whereas Emily was the shrewdest of us all, always calculating. And I had no idea who I was.

I hadn't actually sat down and thought about Severus since the night before leaving Hogwarts. I had always made sure I was constantly busy, that my mind was occupied with other things so it did not wander into such treacherous territory.

But perhaps that was the worst thing I could do, because my subconscious had always been revolving. The subconscious twists things, alters colors of situations, changes people's voices. And I couldn't believe I was actually pondering what Josie had said. The younger, stronger, smarter me would never ally herself with someone who had associated such foul words with her person, but I was not that girl anymore. I had already begun my downward spiral into terrors, and nothing could stop the sheer force of gravity from pulling me down into Hell, and I would only realize the severity of my situation when I landed and looked around at my surroundings.

The next day, we took Madison to the beach, where she ran around looking for shells and hermit crabs. I just sat on a towel with my feet digging into the sand, watching her. Her laughter carried on the breeze from the ocean, and was almost infectious. It took Emily and Josie away with it, and they helped her build a castle feet from the crashing surf, only to watch it be eroded away when the tide came in. They giggled when Madison's skillfully crafted turrets crumbled into beads of congealed sand and rolled down into the water, only to burst apart in a kaleidoscope of dirt and crushed shell.

But I could not let it take me away; I only thought of Severus, and I wondered how often he had seen the ocean, if at all. I hoped the river in New Mills was not the only experience other than the lake at Hogwarts that he had with large bodies of water, and I was struck with an immediate, drowning sadness. I couldn't imagine his mother taking him anywhere outside of New Mills, for she had never struck me as caring and loving, at least not in the conventional sense. Besides, Severus, who spent most of his days holed up in his cellar of a room, would probably melt if his body were subjected to as much sunlight as the beach afforded. I wondered if he had even seen pictures of the ocean, but this was a ridiculous thought. Who hadn't at least seen a picture of the ocean?

Madison ran over to me then, her reddish-brown pigtails shining in the white sunlight. She brought me an almost-whole scallop shell. One of its feet had been broken off in the surf, and the edge was jagged and sharp. The outside of it was adorned in alternating mother-of-pearl and pewter gray stripes, and when I turned it over, a cloud of black boiled in the center to fuse with slate-blue around the edges.

"Thanks," I said, smiling up at her.

She didn't say anything, just grabbed the huge jar of sharks teeth she had collected over the years and ran away from me, far away down the shore to comb the sand for teeth.

"Funny little thing, don't you think?"

Josie had sat down next to me, the freckles covering her face standing out starkly in the midday light. Her skin was blanketed in freckles, so much so that her real skin tone was hardly ever realized. Emily was padding along in the wet sand, looking at her footprints molding and disappearing at equal rates.

"Yeah," I replied.

"It's odd. Emily never talks about her coming to Hogwarts," Josie said.

"I have never heard Emily say anything about Madison displaying magical abilities," I said. "I just always assumed her autism blocked any magic she might have."

"I don't know," Josie contemplated, the tip of her tongue squeezed between her two rows of teeth. "Sometimes I can feel magic radiating off of her."

This may have been true, but I had never paid too much attention to Madison and her aura. I had only met her once before now. Maybe Emily just didn't think about Madison going to Hogwarts at all, because she didn't want to be let down.

Thinking about Emily and Madison washed bitterness over my body. If Madison never displayed any sort of magic, it wouldn't matter. She would still love Emily, because Emily was all she had, and Emily was all she knew. She was such a simple little thing, and these sorts of things made all the difference. Her simplicity seeped out through her pores, untainted by anything. Her love for Emily was perhaps the only pure love I had ever witnessed in my world. And at least I can say I had become familiar with such love before everything went to Hell.

Author's Note:

**Just for the record, I have _nothing_ against the Irish.

**Comments very welcome.

**Thank you to MRSSPICY for her prowess.


	5. Airy Reds and Greens & Succulent Dreams

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Five: **Airy Reds and Greens and Succulent Dreams

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Monday September 1, 1975_

_Early Morning_

_If happy little bluebirds fly_

_Beyond the rainbow_

_Why, oh why can't I? _

Severus Snape stood in his tiny, cramped bedroom, staring at his appearance reflected in the cracked and dirty mirror hanging from his door. His hair hung in sheets of dark strands soaked in the oily concoction his mother had taught him to brew.

His mother, a rather plain-faced woman, was plagued with dreadfully dry skin on her scalp. Unfortunately those traits, which were the most deplorable in Severus' family, were those that had bequeathed themselves upon him, and so he as well had been graced with an excruciatingly itchy scalp. The only remedy to this was a concoction Severus had been taught to brew when he was nine years old, something that he had continued brewing ever since.

And so, as each day began, Severus made sure to pour ample amounts of the potion onto his head, to circumvent said undesirable flakes from collecting on his black-cloaked shoulders. He would rather be called the greasy-haired git than the Sovereign of the Snowy Alps, after all.

If there were one desirable thing Severus had inherited from his mother, it would be her intelligence. His father was far from witty and Severus looked down on his father because of this. Intelligence was one of those traits Severus prized above all others, and to possess such a blundering paternal figure was embarrassing, at best.

Behind Severus, in his personal space (which resembled a cellar because of how dark it was), stood his Hogwarts trunk. Even with the extra space his mother had added to it in his third year, he had barely enough room to squish all of his belongings inside. He could see laying on top his worn pewter cauldron, his patched Hogwarts robes, and several advanced potions texts he had bought in Hogsmeade before term had ended.

It was the night before he was due back at Hogwarts, and he was more ready than ever to board the Hogwarts Express and make his way through the mountains to the castle. The only thing that could put a damper on his train experience was if he met up with Potter and his gang of imperious followers, and this was bound to happen. It seemed to him as if they put aside an hour of the train ride each consecutive year to hunt him down and torment him. Of course, if they met him somewhere other than an educational setting, they would have met more than their match. Because he valued the prefect status he had been handed in fifth-year, he had abstained as often as possible from reciprocating the relentless trickery Potter and Black insisted upon showering him with. Of course, every once in a while couldn't hurt anyone, but he tried his hardest, on most occasions, to ignore them wholly.

A slight tapping roused Severus from his musings and he glanced to the curtained portion of the wall immediately opposite his door. If one hadn't assumed an owl was tapping on a window, you wouldn't know any better, as no light whatsoever was allowed entrance past those curtains.

Severus threw the curtains aside and unlatched his window. An inky black owl with equally dark eyes flew past his head and landed on the back of his chair. In her beak she clutched a thick roll of parchment tied with several pieces of long black hair. She spit it out and clicked her beak indignantly, letting him know that regardless of the contents of said post, she was not leaving again that night. Severus smirked at the commandeering attitude she had come to adapt over the years.

Before he shut the curtains, he glanced outside to the boiling hot night. The stars even appeared affected by the insatiable heat, drooping down further than he had ever seen them before. The street he lived on was always darker it seemed, than the other streets in Hope Valley, even on the brightest kinds of days. The graying street lamps cast pools of week light onto the dirty streets, but the inhabitants across the road didn't dare to let the light from their sitting rooms spill out onto the road.

Severus shut the curtains abruptly, and turned back to his owl, who was staring at him imploringly, silently requesting he release one of the voles he kept in his closet into the house so she could hunt. He honored her request, releasing one of the pitiful creatures into the hall, but he knew she wouldn't leave yet. Just like him, she preferred the hunt before the kill.

He untied the ribbon on the letter slowly, not really caring to read Saloma's missive, but thinking he should sleep on her latest suggestions. He had mentioned some problems with the latest potion she had him working on, and just after he had sent the post off with Audra, he had figured out his problems. He read her note quickly, noting she had made some particularly useless suggestions, such as wringing the stalks of the blue vervain instead of pressing the juice out of them. The problem hadn't even been with the blue vervain, and Severus added another reason why he was helping Saloma with her stupid, inconsequential project for the Dark Lord to his list: because he was the best at potions in the school, and therefore her best chance at impressing the Dark Lord.

It was very late, possibly teetering on the brink of one a.m., but Severus was not feeling in the least bit tired. He could run on very few hours of sleep most days. He slid downstairs slowly, and threw the note into the kitchen stove, where embers glowed silently. He used the iron poker hanging next to the stove to shove the note underneath the bits of charcoal, and then turned to the icebox. Inside it was a plum, and he took that up into his room, relishing the sweet juice leaking into his mouth from the puncture his teeth made in the skin.

He stood again in the center of his room, just to the left of Audra's hanging cage, and stared around the setting. Most of the empty space afforded by lack of standard furniture was taken by bookshelves lined heavily in books. He had a desk that was covered in parchment and dried inkwells and snapped quills. On top of all the debris lay several old letters from Lily, which he had taken to reading through five or six times a day.

He turned his attention to his books, most of which were tomes strictly devoted to the Dark Arts. While Severus was known for his extensive knowledge of said arts, he rarely revealed how he had come upon such controversial smarts. He assumed most of his classmates thought he had acquired the skill from a paternal figure, but little did they know how he had become so learned was through passive learning. He had inherited most of the books from his great-uncle when he had been six years old. He had purchased several of them over the years, but the bulk of his knowledge he had gained before he even started at Hogwarts. While this may have been surprising to most, it came as second nature to him. His mother did not mind in the slightest. While she did not support Voldemort, per se, she did encourage Severus to learn as much as he possibly could, and if learning more meant becoming avid in the Dark Arts, so be it. Severus and his mother saw the Dark Arts more as a means to an end than anything else.

Speaking of the Dark Arts, when Severus had visited Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies, he had taken a detour down Knockturn Alley with Judas and Evan and had been able to retrieve several new and more advanced books to start off his fall semester at Hogwarts. They currently lay amidst the clutter on his desk, tied together in brown paper and twine, but he fancied a read before falling asleep, so he tore open the paper greedily and plucked the first one up into his deftly crafted fingers. He turned up the lamp hanging over his bed, and began reading a text simply titled _Infusco Veneficum_. It was composed entirely of Latin, but this was not a deterrent for Severus in the slightest. After almost ten years of reading textbooks comprised partially or solely in Latin, he rarely needed to take advantage of the dictionary he had been forced to use during his younger years.

His mind divulged the most inner workings of the wizard's mind from the Middle Ages, and as he read a discussion the wizard was having with himself, his mind drifted from the acerbic writings of the author to the rather lilting voice of Lily Evans. And as he heard her recalling their conversation from several months before school had ended, he could also feel her laugh cause the hair on his arms to perk up, as if she were running her fingers lightly over his skin. A small sigh escaped his mouth, and the words he was reading became incomprehensible. He felt his mind wandering, and slowly he drifted into a sweet sleep, a pleasure his mind rarely allowed him indulgence anymore.

He woke several hours later to the alarm he set his wand to every morning. His mind was groggy and swamped in the last tendrils of dream he had taken part in, but he quickly eased such thoughts out of his head. He moved the curtains aside with one of his fingers and peeked out the window. It was barely dawn; he could just make out the solitary, tall smoke pipe silhouetted against the dull red glow of the horizon. The street lamps were still lit at this hour, and they cast pools of yellow light onto the dirty streets where, at night, filthy creatures and beings might have crawled.

Severus turned back to his room, darker and mustier-smelling than ever. He could hear Audra preening on her perch, getting ready to go back to Hogwarts.

He unlocked his door, and proceeded past his parent's bedroom, and down the stairs into the kitchen. Gas lamps immediately sprang to life along the walls, illuminating the space. The floor was worn wood, covered with a rough and faded circular rug. His mother managed to keep fairly good house, and so the room was scrubbed and smelt of pine most days. Severus wished his mother would invest in a house-elf to do all the work for her, but his father wouldn't like that at all.

He moved around the table and reached the back door smoothly. He turned the latch, and stepped out into the stagnant morning. The backyard was completely still and dark, surrounded by a high wooden fence. In the far right corner stood a shabby old shed where his mother conducted her experiments outside her official laboratory. The cement stoop he stood on was cool and rough on his bare feet and so he quickly slipped his feet into the shoes next to the door, and was soon outside the gate and into the morning air.

Severus' house stood perhaps twenty feet from the river, so original in all of its unkemptness. Beer bottles lay strewn on the banks, and fast food wrappers and cups clogged the shore. The depth of the river reached one fathom in the deepest parts, but no one ever dared wade in that water anymore. Any audacious enough would almost certainly find more than merely weathered and broken glass.

He could hear the tiny, broken waves lapping at the few inches of shore, and the first stirrings of the small black birds that he envied for their swiftness in flight, but he did not need to think of where he was going. And although he had stood many a time, staring greedily out into the wasteland, he knew exactly where he was being carried. It had turned into such relentless muscle memory that for an instance of time he felt pleasurable anticipation at where he would soon be. Only half a second later did his cruel mind remind him of his realities, and he envied the small birds their abilities to simply turn and fly when such misery and agony were such inevitable anchors present in his life.

His destination lay perhaps twenty minutes from his own house, and he relished such excursions, especially if they were executed at night. While Severus appreciated most of the natural world and all it was able to offer, his tendencies would always gravitate towards more nocturnal wanderings.

Severus lived in a small town in Northern England almost entirely devoted to industry. Perhaps the peppered-moths had sprung from Severus' town, he could not say, but he did know that every house was coated in sooty, black residue. The tall smoke pipe hovering over Hope Valley in the distance emitted fat, gluttonous clouds of charcoal gray smoke sixteen hours of the day, seven days a week.

His father coveted his job, valued it above all else, but Severus saw it of little consequence when he put everything into perspective. His father had once been an object of utmost admiration and respect, but over the years he had evolved into an individual worthy of only scorn and contempt.

Severus was striding past a chapel now, the only one in Hope Valley. Its steeples were not considered tall in any respects, but it was a beautiful church nonetheless. Stained glass windows adorned the front, intricate and boastful in their delicacy and architecture. Soft glows from lit candles pulsated from the corners of the windows, but other than the stained glass, Severus had no clue as to the interior décor. His mother had never set foot in a church, and thus Severus followed suit. And cynic he was, he despised churchgoers in all of their hypocrisy.

He had received her note several days ago. It was the first letter that had come voluntarily from her all summer. It had been succinct, telling him to meet her at their usual spot, at their usual time, September first. The next few days had been unbearably long and torturous. He practiced Occlumency most hours of the day, but sometimes the cement wall he built between his thoughts and the summer air would crack, and a bit of her would seep through.

He had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like; he could barely recall it in his mind's ear. He had almost forgotten the rich russet her hair deepened to in the winter, or the tinge of copper it acquired in the summer. But what he would never forget were the color of her eyes. He wondered if there was even a particular word that could do justice to her eye color, and after several moments of deliberation, he decided not.

The air stirring around him was heavy, and he could smell cloudy moisture hanging in the sky. Perhaps today would be the day Britain finally experienced the gift of rain again. A km away, he could hear the train zipping through Hope Valley.

Eventually he spotted their tree in the distance, silhouetted by the glowing red sunrise. It was very tall and wide and leafy; he was sort of surprised the leaves looked so spry. He had expected them to hang droopily down towards the ground, the branches heavy and tired due to lack of water.

And next to the tree she stood, her arms dangling down listlessly, her left hip leaning over her leg and disrupting the alignment of her body. She was sort of a curvy girl, small bits of fat clinging to her arms and thighs and waist, but he did not mind. Her back was facing away from him, and she was staring down the hill into the valley. Lights were probably popping on in every other house, as the population rose to trudge through another day, and when she heard his footsteps crunching through the dry grass, she turned around slowly, not looking at him until he was directly in front of her. And then he was gazing down at her face.

Her perfect nose stared up at him, her perfectly arched eyebrows drew together in muted anger. All he wanted to do was smooth the strands of her cherry-colored hair stirring in the slight morning breeze down with his fingers, but he could not. He had rarely ever touched her, except in moments of despair. Their friendship had never been based on touch, and he had never been brave enough to escalate it; he could count the numbers of times he had been close enough to brush her arm with his, or to nudge her thigh with his knee, on one hand.

He had been rehearsing what he would say to her if given the chance all summer, but now his tongue was dry and his mind was blank. Her lips were pursing together now, and her arms folded into a pretzel across her chest. He said nothing for several minutes.

"Would you like me to remind you why we are here?" she asked slowly, her voice low and muffled. She sounded as if her mouth was half-submerged in water.

"I know why we are here," he replied smoothly. His voice sounded detached from his body.

"Then tell me what you have been begging to tell me."

And then he did something he thought he would never have done in his entire life. He leaned forward and closed the gap between them, and then there was no more empty air around her mouth. _He_ was on her mouth, encouraging her lips apart, tasting toothpaste trapped in the corners. Her eyes had widened in surprised anticipation, and his hands wrapped around her upper arms, pinning them to her sides as she struggled. But as soon as his tongue pried her mouth open, she stopped fighting and started kissing back, a slight and sultry groan vibrating in her throat.

His hands loosened their grip on her arms, and his mind imagined a circlet of fingerprinted bruises filling themselves in with color. He was overcome with grim and dark satisfaction. And she reciprocated the movement by clasping his body closer to her and suddenly he was closer than he had ever been to anyone. She wasn't just trying to be closer to him; she was trying to be a part of him. They would fuse into one and never be apart again.

In the distance he heard sirens, speeding ambulances rushing to a house fire.

She clawed at the clothing on his back, her fingernails attempting to rip the material to shreds. He felt odd and listening to her small whimpers of acquiescence only heightened this feeling.

More sirens were heard then, fire trucks and police cars adding to the din, and he felt a sort of indescribable rage at the noise. He couldn't hear her anymore, could only feel her around him. And his sense of touch was dimming. He couldn't tell the delicate skin of the inside of her wrist from the thicker skin on her back apart anymore.

The sirens melted together into a cacophony of sound, and the warmth of her body dissolved away from him.

He woke with a start, and realized the siren had been his alarm, the alarm to the clock he set everyday at five a.m. He still was lying in his bed, his book lying open next to him. He used his fingers to move a bit of the curtain aside, and noted that it was still early morning, dark air shifting outside his window, and a red the color of merlot wine staining the bits of sky above the rooftops.

And he had never kissed Lily Evans. In fact, he probably never would.

Author's Note:

Comments very welcome and appreciated.

Also, thank you to my beta reader, MRSSPICY! She's awesome!


	6. Clemency

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Six:** Clemency

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Sunday, August 31, 1975_

_Early Morning_

The rest of the summer past in a blur: I had gone with my parents and Petunia to Liverpool for one week in August, and although I was flooded with news full of deaths from the Prophet, I managed to enjoy myself. At the end of the week I even had a very subtle tan to show for it, along with my usual barrage of sun-induced freckles.

I stayed with my mother at the Leaky Cauldron the weekend before I was due back at Hogwarts, to get new books for school and other things I needed. And so on Monday, September first, I woke late; all of my stuff had already been packed in my trunk, sans my typewriter, which was sitting amid piles of paper on the desk, and so I could afford this lay in. I woke to a train speeding past the room, shaking the bed sort of violently. Lotte screeched loudly in her cage and beat her wings against the bars in fright.

My mother had left the night before, after we enjoyed a homely and filling dinner in the pub downstairs, and I had spent Sunday evening alone. She had been reluctant to leave me, but after some very effective persuasion on my part, which included several false statements attributed to the safety of Diagon Alley, she took leave.

I had not caught a single glance of Severus the entire summer, and although I had decided I was going to forgive him, I had put it off. He had still sent me notes and letters everyday, and even then I had ignored him and my decision. I knew I was going to forgive him; it had just become the question of when.

I woke that morning with his face swimming in my head, his eyes the same dark pools reflecting sadness and humiliation and anger. Today would be the day I saw him, and reconciled our differences.

I sat up in bed then, and looked around my room. My clothes for that day were laid out on the desk chair, my Mary Janes waiting patiently underneath them. I heard the bell outside my door tinkle several times, and knew it was my wake-up call and breakfast.

I made quick work of tidying my room and eating my breakfast. My mother had already paid for our three-night stay upon leaving yesterday, and so I needn't even worry about that.

I released Lotte from her cage through one of the windows, and she screeched loudly again, taking off into the smoggy, hazy morning air.

"Levi- (not corpus, but "dead weight")," and my trunk floated several inches of the ground, hovering and humming nicely. I turned from the room and went down into the pub.

"Hope you have a good term, Miss Evans," Tom the owner said to me. The smaller Tom, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, poked his head up from underneath the bar and grinned toothily at me, a rosy hue spreading over his cheeks. Just two days ago, his father had relayed to my mother how Tom, Jr. had a crush on me.

"Thank you, Tom. I hope everything stays fine around here," I said, alluding to the imminent danger hanging just outside our peripheral vision.

He tipped his hat at me, but didn't return the thought. Everyone knew Hogwarts was the safest place to be during hard times. "Your cab is awaiting just outside, miss."

I bid them both adieu, and strolled out into the heavy air. The cab driver stowed my trunk in his oversized back seat, and I slid in through the other door to sit next to it.

"Heading off to school?" he asked me, catching my eye in the rearview mirror after he had started driving,

"Yes," I replied. The city was alive and sweating profusely. The sky had still staved off the rain, but that morning I could smell it in the air.

"Thinking about the rain?" the driver asked me, looking up at the sky too.

"Or the lack of it, yes," I replied bitterly. I had always enjoyed the rain very much, even as a child.

"My mum said the rain's coming in tonight, off the Atlantic. She has a Muggle telly that she charmed, you know."

"Brilliant," I said absently, thinking about the rain.

"Going to Hogwarts?" he asked, weaving through traffic.

"Yes."

"I hope you have a good term. It's a hard school."

I nodded in terse agreement, but it astounded me so many people were all of a sudden talking about how hard Hogwarts was. I had never thought about the class structure before in the wizarding world, because I never had any real need to. But now that I thought about it, I realized how different people in the wizarding world were: there were low-class citizens, who had never completed their education, and there was practically wizarding royalty, like Josie's family, and then there was everything in between. Although a lot of the popular stature in the wizarding world rested on gold, and how much you had of it, whether or not you finished your education at Hogwarts gave great contribution to who you would be in ten years, and what you would look like, and how you would dress.

I covertly looked at the driver in the rearview mirror through my sunglasses. His eyebrows were thick, and his nose was big, but his face was thin and made of angles. I wrote his story right then, sitting in the car on the short ride to Kings Cross.

He had three kids, and a woman who stayed at home and charmed the dishes to wash themselves, but they weren't wed, for the money they would use for the ceremony at the Ministry was spent dirtying those dishes she cleaned religiously. Their kids were ragamuffins, dirty and scrawny and refusing baths but once a week. They probably had a one bedroom flat above a cleaners or barbers shop rented from the tenants. The cab driver looked like the sort of man who would give his kids the mattresses, and he and their mother would kip next to them on the dirty, cracked flooring that roaches crawled across.

"Here we are, missy," he said gruffly, opening the door nearest my trunk. I hadn't even realized we had stopped, had still been picturing the cheap, off-white wallpaper curling off his walls. "You need help dragging it through the platform?"

"No, thank you. I can manage." I paid him with a few sickles, adding two extra for his kid's food that night, and he drove away into the traffic melting into the train station.

I made it through the platform safely and stood still, staring around at the chaos of the moment. Sunlight filtered down through the bodies, its usual brightness muted by the pending storm. People were yelling, kids were running around, owls were hooting and cats were meowing, the train was steaming. I saw several people I knew by name, and many I knew only by face. If Josie or Emily had been there yet, they would already be on the train in our customary compartment, third right from the back. Potter and his friends were standing about fifty feet away from me, accompanied by their trunks and several extra bags of what were no doubt their latest tricks.

I started walking further into the crowd, but before I got too far, I saw something that made my heart jump into my throat and get momentarily stuck. Until it drooped back into my chest cavity, I was speechless.

Severus was sitting on an old bench not too far from where I was standing, but he hadn't seen me coming. His back was hunched, and his elbows rested on his thighs and his face had fallen into his hands. Next to him was his old school trunk with an 'Eileen Prince' name plaque on it, and strapped on top was Audra's wrought-iron cage. She stared at me haughtily, her galleon-sized eyes unblinking and challenging.

Once I regained my bearings (for I hadn't seen him at all the entire summer and so something had stuck me in the back and held me down like a helpless moth), I wheeled my trunk closer to him and cleared my throat inelegantly.

He raised his head slowly and brushed his hair back with his hands, those hands that I had always sort of admired for their elegance, and stared at me with inky black eyes, although in the sun they didn't look so black. They sort of reminded me of the time I had been doing an essay in the Great Hall at breakfast, and Mary had knocked over her tall glass of water. The liquid had crept across the tablecloth, and the wind from the glass had caused my inkbottle to tip over. The ink and the water had collided, and run together, and a diluted, inky black had stained the white tablecloth. That's what his eyes looked like in that moment: diluted, faded, and weak.

His mouth hung open for a split second, the amount of time it had taken me to make the association between his eye color and Mary's innate clumsiness, and then he sat up straight and rubbed the palms of his hands on his thighs.

"How was your summer?" I ventured. Audra clicked her beak at me.

"Same as always," he answered abruptly.

"That's good," I said, my weak countenance dissipating away.

"Did you get any of my letters?" he asked, his voice coiling dangerously around his words. "Audra came back so many times empty-handed I was beginning to think she wasn't delivering them, but she's never missed a delivery before."

Audra stared at me, her left eye experiencing a very obvious and severe muscle spasm, as if she wanted to quirk an eyebrow at me so bad, but her anatomy just refused to respond.

"She must have flown to my house so many times in circles that she just couldn't find her way anymore," I said, shrugging nonchalantly.

He stood up then, and grabbed the handle of his trunk. "I guess I'll be seeing you in the prefect's meeting," he said, his voiced glazed with resignation. He turned away, and began walking towards the train, and I grabbed his upper arm rashly.

"What?" he said, not aggressively or harshly, but sort of dejectedly.

"I just wanted to—" I said, sort of stumbling over my words. I paused, gathering my thoughts.

"What?" he said again, more urgently this time. The platform was clearing and families were saying their last goodbyes.

"I just wanted to say it's okay," I muttered

His eyes congealed over with darkness, and the spaces in between that had given his irises their diluted hue filled in with blacker than black color.

"After all this time, you give in?"

I stared at him sheepishly, not knowing what to say.

"I was starting to think I didn't care anymore," he said, dropping his arms to his sides.

"I know Severus. I know I was completely unreasonable this summer. If it makes you feel better, mine was miserable as well."

His lip curled up in suppressed satisfaction, and Audra clicked her beak two times in succession.

I grabbed his hands in mine, and realized how sweaty they were. He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and squeezed gently, nodding slightly in consent to my apology.

I didn't even ask him for one: I figured by then he had apologized enough.

"Saw you and Snivelly holding hands on the platform. Kiss and make up?"

I had almost made it to the compartment safely. Almost.

Potter must have seen me walk past his compartment. I turned around and stared at his speccy head sticking out the door.

"What do you care, Potter?" I demanded.

"Somebody who talks to you the way he does doesn't deserve you," he replied, stepping all the way out into the corridor.

He had grown a few more inches it seemed since I had last seen him (or maybe I always pictured him smaller in my mind's eye), and the way he was leaning up against the doorjamb, with his arms folded across one another and one leg crossed over the other, struck me as sort of sexy.

Unconsciously, of course.

I snorted unattractively. "I hope you're not serious."

"Dead serious," he said, raising his hand to muss his hair. "Just as I am dead sexy."

"Did someone say my name?"

Sirius strolled out of the compartment then, and I rolled my eyes at the murdered-and-brought-back-to-life-just-to-be-annihilated-again joke.

"Ah, my little cherry bomb," he said to me, tweaking his eyebrows up and down suggestively. I almost laughed at his absurd behavior, but checked myself: the last thing I needed was for any four of them to get the impression I thought they were cute or funny in any way.

Just then, a disembodied voice announced the train would be departing in two minutes. I turned around and headed into my compartment without saying anything to them.

"See you at the feast, Evans," I heard Potter call before I snapped the door shut.

"What took you so long, Lils?" Josie demanded.

"Met Severus on the platform, and then Potter held me up in the corridor, being his usual obnoxious self." I shoved my trunk up in the racks above the seats with a little help from Emily, and then turned around.

Vernette Ziegler was in there from Hufflepuff. She was a hyper kind of girl with braided pigtails ending in six or so inches of curls, and she didn't fit in too well with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, so she ended up spending most of her time with the Gryffindors. It was strange for her house to be so weird about her, especially when their standing attribute was loyalty. We usually just called her Netta.

Hazel Clarke was a quieter girl, with hair a few shades more golden than organic sugar, and long blonde eyelashes to match. She played the cello, a beautiful instrument that had been in her family for several generations. It was a dark amber colored wood, a blush stained into its matte cheeks. It sang melodic songs that hovered in your ear cavity long after she dragged the bow across the strings for the last time, a resinous and quivering note filling in the empty spaces in the air.

She smiled shyly at me, and turned back to her music notebooks. She routinely wrote her own songs, some that contributed to the music played by The Fetes, and others she added to a folder stuffed full of sheet music. I, who had no way of knowing what music should sound like just by reading it off the page, was sometimes oblivious to the musical genius she was. She struggled with magic.

As soon as I sat down, the train gave a heavy lurch and slowly began moving forward.

The ride was uneventful. Not soon after I dropped my stuff off in the compartment I was walking with Remus to the front of the train for the Prefects meeting. Severus was there, speaking softly to one of the fifth-year Slytherins, Regulus Black. I took a seat by the door, in between Remus and Emmeline Vance. The Head Boy and Girl talked, and I soaked it all in, even though I already heard it all, knew it all. By the time the meeting was over, and we were just entering Scotland, it was raining, sheets of silvery gray water obscuring the scenery that lay beyond the train tracks. Severus was still engrossed in conversation with Regulus, so Remus accompanied me back to our compartments. The conductor turned the lamps on as Remus and I walked towards the back of the train and I bid him farewell as I passed his compartment.

Emily had cracked the window so she could smoke, and Josie and Netta were playing Gobstones. I just sat down and opened my Advanced Potions theories book, but I couldn't get past the first paragraph without my mind wandering.

The Evening Prophet last night had detailed several articles about attacks on Muggles all over the country, and even a couple on the continent. Lord Voldemort's sphere of threat was growing rapidly in diameter, and yet most Muggles didn't even know about it, including my family.

And it was truly heartbreaking, if you realized what happened to Muggle families who had felt Voldemort's murderous hand fall upon them. The Ministry did all it could to assure that the general Muggle public knew nothing of Voldemort, and this included the complete expunging of unaffected family members' memories. Those people who died by Voldemort's hand could never have existed for their families after the Ministries obliviators were through with them. All trace and memory of them had been obliterated from the earth.

I was suddenly struck with a strong sense of shame, for I had known of the threat to my family since my first year at Hogwarts, and yet selfishness had prevented me from telling them. I was sure if they ever knew what sort of danger we were all in due to my less than pure heritage, they wouldn't hesitate to pull me right out of Hogwarts, and now that I had been introduced into such an amazing world, I couldn't bear going back to mediocrity.

It was only a matter of time though; the attacks by Voldemort were slowly wandering closer and closer to home. I could feel a bit of string pull tighter and tighter around my heart each time I read of more blood on Voldemort's hands, and eventually I felt I could suffocate from the terror of it all.

I glanced over the tops of my reading glasses. Josie and Netta sat on the bench across from me, and Josie was laughing at Netta, whose chin was dripping the goo from the Gobstones down into her lap.

Josie, whose parents were both top Aurors for the Ministry, and united against the malevolent corners of Britain, experienced first-hand the awful truth most of the magical community was trying their best to ignore. Her entire family was probably feeling very threatened, although Josie's house was practically a fortress. Her father, fearing the wrath of all the criminals he had incarcerated over the years, had many obstacles on his land that prevented unwanted trespassers from entry. Only the most skilled wizards would be able to bypass her father's wards.

I was jolted from my reverie by Hazel.

"How was your summer?" she asked me. She had set aside her music notes, and was staring at me earnestly, her hands folded meekly in her lap.

"Fine, I suppose," I replied, taking my glasses off. "I visited Emily and Josie for a couple weeks, went to Liverpool with my family. How about yours?"

"Tainted," she replied. And as I looked closer at her face, I could see small creases embedded around her eyes, and etched in the space between her eyebrows. They practically leaked a sort of subtle sadness. "Half of my dad's side of the family is gone. They just disappeared while they were on holiday, no one has heard anything from them since late June."

"Oh," I said. I had no clue what to say, really. Hazel was the first I knew personally who had been affected by Voldemort's attacks.

"We finally had a funeral for them all, just a few days ago," she continued, looking down at her hands. I was afraid she may start crying, but she didn't, and after a few moments, she raised her head and stared across the compartment, her eyes practically boring through Josie's head. "I want to cry, but I can't, you know? Not anymore."

I nodded slightly, but said nothing. I didn't have to, for I knew exactly what she meant. Eventually, no matter how sad you were, crying isn't a release anymore.

"You know, my dad's side are all Muggles," she continued, fidgeting with a loose string on her t-shirt. "Completely defenseless. And if my mum wasn't a witch, I wouldn't even know they ever existed now, the Ministry is becoming tyrannical with obliviations."

I noticed Emily was listening, her cigarette smoking thin tendrils of nicotine into the air. Behind the screen of smoke, her eyes were calculating, steely gray, and for a second I couldn't discern a line of definition between the iris and the smoke.

Josie and Netta had stopped playing Gobstones, and were both listening to the silences between Hazel's words. I had been afraid she was going to start crying before, but I knew now that she wouldn't. Her skin, once full of blush as most people with Norwegian descent were prone to, was more gray and clammy than anything else.

We observed a respectful silence until about ten minutes later, when a disembodied voice came over the intercom and announced we would be arriving in Hogsmeade in about fifteen minutes. We busied ourselves silently with getting ready and arranging our trunks for departure. Josie locked her cats in their cages, and when the train came to a halt, Emily pulled out a huge umbrella that would cover the four of us. Netta had run off to meet her Hufflepuff acquaintances, and Hazel was walking a little ahead of us, picking the driest carriage she could find for us to ride up to the castle in.

We clambered into the carriage, and Josie propped the umbrella up in the middle of the seats, but our backs were sticking out, and I could feel the ends of my hair being dragged down by the added moisture. The ride to the castle seemed longer than normal, because of how cramped we all felt underneath the umbrella's cover.

The rain fell steadily around us, sounding like a barrage of cherry pits being thrown on the ground. The air was much cooler than it had been for weeks, and smelt of water-logged tree trunks, and damp and decaying foliage that seeped in to the dirt at the edge of the gravel road. I could visualize the turrets of Hogwarts just beyond the tips of the trees, and imagined it lit up with glowing golden light, and smelling of pot roast and cooked vegetables, and being dry and warm.

The road was beginning to flood with rain, but the carriages trudged through the swelling waters effortlessly, and soon we were disembarking and climbing up the front steps to be welcomed into the Great Hall.

Hazel wandered away from us and sat at the end of the table, closest to the High Table, near some third years I recognized. Josie sat down in a space with some empty benches, and Emily and I sat on either side of her.

Students filtered in rapidly, most in eager anticipation of the feast. I noticed some Hufflepuffs who were relatively close to my Gryffindor group of friends, and the group of Ravenclaws, including Emmeline Vance, who I studied with. Professor Dumbledore and many of the other teachers were sitting at the Top Table and staring down at their students coming in.

I looked away then, and back towards the doors, and saw Severus saunter in slowly with Judas and Evan, his two closest male friends, and not too far behind them were Jezebel Rosier, Evan's twin sister, and Virginia Travers. It didn't look like any of them were in conversation; they were just striding coolly to the center of the Slytherin table and sitting down across from one another.

Severus didn't glance my way once, and I wasn't sure if he didn't care to know where I sat, or if the steely countenance he wore was doing all it could not to seek my visage out.

I scanned the Slytherin table a little more closely then, and noticed Saloma Yaxley and Gera Fuscienne, both seventh-year girls. It was sometimes hard to tell who had blacker hair, but it didn't really matter too much, because they were inseparable. Gera's skin was ripe with yellow undertones, a nice rich olive, while Saloma had a much paler complexion.

Severus and his friends sat relatively close to Saloma and several other Slytherins soon joined Gera and them, and at this point, the tables separating Gryffindor and Slytherin were filled in with students.

Dumbledore stood up once, held his arms up, and the chatter in the hall descended into silence. The main doors opened then, and McGonagall strode in, the heels of her shoes sending resonating clicks through the hall. She walked quickly, and the small children behind her could barely keep up. They practically stumbled over one another, and all appeared to be breathing rather heavily when they finally arrived at the front of the hall.

McGonagall set the hat on the stool, and without further ado, it began its song.

_Welcome back to school, dear students,_

_ And I pray your holiday was well._

_ I look upon you all now, and consider_

_ Your lovely heads on which I fell._

_ There is Slytherin, _

_ Their faces so grim and reserved,_

_ True zeal and guile_

_ The only attributes they dare expose._

_ And next to them, smart Ravenclaw,_

_ Eager eyes and itching brains,_

_ Strive to discover new potions, and spells._

_ And to heal others, even the most maimed._

_ Hufflepuff is there, patient and true,_

_ Their tolerance and love for others_

_ Neutralizing the animosity which_

_ Can at times overwhelm the tethers._

_ Finally Gryffindor, brazen and brash,_

_ Their courage and vibrancy_

_ Often times misinterpreted for_

_ Arrogance and irrationality._

_ I am pleased to sort you,_

_ Young students, small and new,_

_ But first I must deliberate,_

_ And consider what is at stake._

The hat paused for a moment, and Josie looked at me strangely.

"That wasn't up to its usual par, was it?" she whispered, but I could barely hear her, for it seemed all the other students felt the same way. A tsunami of murmurs had crashed over the hall.

"I've never heard it sing in botched free-verse before," I answered, having to speak a little louder than normal so she could hear me.

Dumbledore stood up then, and McGonagall looked indignant at the students' response to the song.

"Silence, please," the headmaster said. "The hat is hardly done with its song."

And I looked back at the hat, and saw that the wrinkles it had for eyebrows were furrowed together. It opened the tear in its mouth, and started to sing again, this time the rhymes much more choreographed.

_Being a hat of such import,_

_ I feel it is my duty_

_ To warn the ones I sort._

_ And so I'm sure I pleased you_

_ With the traits of your_

_ Houses surely sung true_

_ But I must say, _

_ For the first time,_

_ Dearly will you pay_

_ If you don't hold this in mind:_

_ The air you breathe is tainted_

_ With the betrayals of those next to you,_

_ Innocent grins on their faces painted._

_ They will hunt you,_

_ And all you once thought surely_

_ Couldn't be anything but true,_

_ Will be shone in the light,_

_ A negative exposure,_

_ Wound around your body, tight._

_ All the years past,_

_ I have advocated unity_

_ But today I can't help but cast_

_ Emphasis on individuality,_

_ And encourage you to trust_

_ No one but yourself,_

_ For your relations have dissolved to rust._

_ And I leave you with these thoughts to ponder,_

_ And I beg you your hearts not to wander. _

The hall was silent then, as even McGonagall stared oddly at the hat. After a few minutes, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and McGonagall began the sorting, but I had a hard time paying attention. Every few minutes I heard the names of a house explode from the front of the hall, although I had no idea who the students coming into Gryffindor house were.

The hat had made some pretty strong proclamations, and equally strong accusations. One of the major themes at Hogwarts was house unity, and while playful house rivalry was often encouraged, I had never imagined the day would come when the oldest and wisest being in the establishment stressed such alienation of the individual. I think the only students generally capable of the complete estrangement of themselves were the Slytherins, but even then Severus had always insisted how much they all relied on, supported, and protected one another. It was true that each of the houses did have their own sense of camaraderie, no matter how twisted it seemed.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said. He had stood up after McGonagall had finally taken a seat to his right. "Welcome to our new students, and welcome back everyone else. I have a few announcements I would like to make before we all tuck in to the lovely feast that has been prepared.

"Firstly, I would like to introduce our new Defense instructor, who is replacing Professor Judson. He is taking several years off to aid in specialized research for the Japanese Ministry. I am pleased to announce that Ms. Marlena Figg from the Department of Mysteries will be taking up the post. In addition to her independent research and study, she informs me she will be more than happy to bestow her wisdom on the next generation. She is, regrettably, unable to join us this evening, but will be here bright and early tomorrow morning for her class with the third year Hufflepuffs."

He paused here so we all could applaud politely for her absence, and Josie looked over at me excitedly.

"I had no idea Aunt Marlena would be teaching these coming semesters!" Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation. "Lily, you'll absolutely love her, she's positively brilliant."

"I would also like to announce the Head Boy and Head Girl for this year, Emerson Bodie from Gryffindor and Antigone Alois from Ravenclaw. They both have displayed exceptional academic success, being the top two in their class. They also exhibit fine leadership skills, incredible moral value, and the true and genuine ability to stand out and make a difference in their atmospheres. Congratulations and good luck!"

Everyone clapped again, much louder and more enthusiastically this time, as they stood up humbly. Antigone gave a polite curtsy, and Emerson smiled and nodded his head.

"What I will tell you next will undoubtedly infuriate many of you a good deal, but after a long summer of mulling it over, I have come to the conclusion that I have no real choice in the matter. Because my number one concern is not your education, but rather that you live past your graduation in order to use the education you have gained here, I have decided the Hogsmeade trips must be cancelled for this year."

As soon as he said the word "cancelled," many of the third, fourth, and fifth years cried out in protest. He allowed them to yell and argue with one another for about three minutes before raising his arms and clearing his throat, which was louder than normal due to an amplifying charm on his voice box.

"I realize that many of you object to this, and if you have particularly strong feelings opposing my decision, I must conclude that you do not fully understand what is happening in society today. The average attack count per week on Muggles and Muggleborns is nine, with one hundred percent of the attacks ending in death. Lord Voldemort has begun extending his hand of death on half-blooded families, and even righteous pureblooded families who blatantly and publicly oppose his rule and all he stands for. I cannot risk your lives merely for a daytrip into Hogsmeade, where you can buy trivial pranks and new dressrobes, or where you can drink butterbeer and buy sweets. All of the items purchased at the shops in Hogsmeade can be bought via owl-order, and I strongly encourage you to take advantage of this. If anyone is caught sneaking off of the grounds for anything, there will be severe repercussions, and you will be very lucky indeed if I pardon you from expulsion.

"Now, as many of you may see this as a punishment, and as the Hogsmeade trips were once a break from studying and other stresses, I have decided there can be more recreational events available on the grounds. I have taken the liberty of canceling classes during the few days Samhain fall on, so that the school may have a social, feast, et cetera, with music and games. I have also scheduled for your Christmas holiday to end a few days earlier than normal, so that we may celebrate entrance into the New Year together. We may do the same for the Spring Solstice and the Leaving Feast will be much more extravagant than usual. I hope that this will at least make up for some of the fun you will have lost, but I will not apologize for restricting the trips, as I feel it is my number one duty as Headmaster of this school to insure your safety.

"I will attempt to make this last part as succinct as possible, as I believe some of you are practically drooling with hunger. The imminent dangers hanging over the entire community, both magical and non-magical, are not something I should have to detail to any of you. What I must stress is for you to take extra care to avoid any sort of situation that you feel is less than completely safe. I am the Headmaster of this school, and while I do control a very strong surveillance and security system, I simply cannot be in more than one place at any given time. If you have any reason to suspect something is amiss, if you have heard whispers of conspiracy, do not hesitate for a second to report it to myself, one of your professors or your head of house, anyone of any position in this school. I cannot stress this enough, it is of utmost importance. I truly hope we can get through this year without any sort of malignant force pervading into the castle. Thank you for your patience, and let the feast begin."

The food appeared then, huge roasts and chickens and hams, boats of gravy, bowls of scalloped potatoes and plates of steamed vegetables. There was something for everyone, even those with the most unique and sensitive palates. After I had cleared two plates, desserts appeared, and I was almost too full to eat a slice of red velvet cake. I was feeling most uncomfortably round by the time Remus and I had to lead the new first years up the stairs and to Gryffindor tower.

I slept soundly that night, perhaps the soundest sleep I had since before the O.W.L.'s.

Author's notes:

Thanks a lot to my regular reviewers.

Comments very welcome, and appreciated.

Also, thank you to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.


	7. All of the Fifth Dimensions

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Seven: **All of the Fifth Dimensions

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be.

"_You can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you." My Chemical Romance_

He stared across the compartment at her chatting amiably with Emmeline Vance, an Asian Ravenclaw prefect with braces and freckled cheeks, and they were laughing. She had smiled sullenly at him but had been beckoned by Emmeline to have a seat by her instead, and she had acquiesced.

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts Severus spent in contemplation of her. He didn't even go back to his own compartment, and he couldn't remember any of the carriage ride up to the castle, or the feast. He had dissociated so far into his own occluding mind, which was what happened when occlusion became an involuntary action.

After the feast, Severus and his friends descended to their dormitories and unpacked their belongings. Along with Judas Avery and Evan Rosier in his room, there was Thomas Gamble, a muggleborn boy who had proven to command a relatively acceptable intelligence, and Frederick Wilkes, a rather quiet and shy boy compared to his younger, boisterous twin sisters.

It took Severus very little time to unpack his trunk. He levitated his books to the bookshelf, shoved his clothes into the wardrobe unceremoniously (he knew a very good ironing charm), and carefully removed his apothecary box and sealed cauldron.

Now that he was going to be doing independent research as well as curriculum-based study, he would need more than just one cauldron.

He shrank his apothecary set and placed it gently in one of his pockets, and then picked up the slightly warm cauldron with both his hands and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Severus?" Judas asked. He was lounging on his bed, tossing a clear glass paperweight back and forth between his hands.

"To the Owlery, and to see Slughorn," he answered promptly.

"Don't be back in late, we don't want to lose points already," he replied, placing the ball on his night side table and rolling over to his side to read one of his textbooks.

Severus quickly exited the room and strode up to the Common Room, ignoring the few groups of people getting reacquainted with one another.

He had lied about going to see Slughorn. Judas, while being one of Severus' closer friends, was miserably nosy and needed an explanation for everything. If Severus had just said he was going to the Owlery, Judas would have wondered why he was taking the cauldron with him. Judas could simply think Severus was going to Slughorn to talk to him about the potion.

Severus walked quickly, for his was anxious to see how the Potion had set from last night. He strode up through the tunnels of the dungeons, the cool drip of water serenading him. Every five minutes or so he chanced upon a window, unlatched for better ventilation. The rain was still falling heavily, but he could not hear it as it hit the ground so far below him. He could see it cascading down, looking like long, silvery threads. Not soon after that, he could smell warmer, fresher air tendrils, and finally he was cresting the last set of stairs before the entrance hall.

There were still a few groups of students milling around, older ones mostly, but Severus paid them no mind, and they acted as if they hadn't even noticed him. Severus much preferred it this way, for there were many things he did that no one really had any need to know about, and the fewer people cared about his existence, the more likely no one would nose into his personal life.

In a far corner of the entrance hall, a Ravenclaw seventh-year and Hufflepuff sixth-year were practically latched onto one another's faces, and Severus was reminded instantly of gigantic leeches, sucking the blood clear through the pores of human skin.

He continued up the stairs past them, and enjoyed the cool air wafting in through the open windows. The higher he climbed into the castle, the more the rain seemed to fall with a sort of desperate urgency. Now, instead of it resembling strings of silver thread, it looked like the iced over wall of a damn, and the heavy smell of humidity laced into Severus' nostrils.

Eventually, he made it to the seventh floor and turned down a few corridors until he saw the blank space of wall ahead opposite the huge portrait of ugly trolls clad in tutu. The pictures on either wall observed him grimly as he purposefully strode towards the blank wall, thinking all along, "I need to brew, I need to brew, I need to brew."

Finally, a rounded, heavy wooden door with metal latches on it popped into existence, and Severus made to check both directions of the empty hall before disappearing behind it without a sound.

Severus had come upon the Room of Requirement two times before accidentally. Once, when he had been trying to find somewhere to hide from Potter and his friends. The second time had been when he had wandered the entire castle in search for a special type of mold needed for an experimental potion. He had gotten all the way to the seventh floor, and had been pacing around rather aimlessly, wondering where he could find the mold, when the door had set itself into the wall. When he had entered, he had found jars and jars of hundreds of different molds, quite possibly all of the species of mold on the planet! Suffice it to say, he had found the mold, and had also found a more than adequate place he could brew in private.

Being the top Potions student, Slughorn had never denied Severus the opportunity to use one of the student labs for his own personal brewing during school hours, but he had never been provided the privacy he felt he deserved. Slughorn had always been there offering suggestions, tweaking things, and while it was quite obvious the man was a little more than just plain brilliant, Severus preferred to do everything himself.

So when he entered the Room, he was pleased to note nothing had changed since the last time he had been there in the spring. Two long worktables extended the length of the room, covered in cutting boards, scales, and various other useful instruments. A long table at the back of the room was covered in three cauldrons, and was where the brewing occurred. There was a fireplace on the right wall, and a large and very complete storage room on the left wall. A water closet was also provided, complete with an emergency shower in case something spilled on him. The rest of the walls were covered in bookshelves filled with every book a potions student or master could ever need. There was one window directly in the middle of the wall opposite the door, and tall standing oil lamps in the four corners of the rectangular room.

He hurried over to one of the worktables and set his cauldron on the edge of it, absently flicking his wand at the window so it would open. There was a small ledge extending out from the window onto which the rain could fall, and Severus could hear the soft thrumming of the storm.

His fingers set to peeling back the papery substance he used to seal his cauldrons when he needed to move them. It was really quite useful and worked terribly well. He had seen it sold at the apothecary in Diagon Alley several summers ago and had coveted it ever since, finally convincing his mother to buy it for him the summer before fifth year.

He disposed of the seal, and turned back to the potion, which he was pleased to acknowledge smelt like nothing and looked relatively neutral.

"Finite incantatem."

The potion was released from its stasis and immediately smelt sour and acrid. The color darkened to deep mustard, and its consistency thickened to that of sludge. The boiling point of the substance was very low, and so bubbles the size of Galleons slowly floated up from the bottom and burst languidly at the surface.

Severus had the potion memorized by now, but he strode to one of the bookshelves anyways, and took a thick book bound in new-looking black leather, and looked it up in the Table of Contents. The pages were thin and dusty, and felt as if they would crumble in his fingers.

Severus spent many evenings of the first couple of weeks brewing. He knew once his workload became too heavy, he would no longer be able to devote much time to it, so he was trying to get as much done as possibly. Saloma planned on presenting her project to the Dark Lord one week before Samhain, the night of her initiation, and it had to be right. She had told her father to tell him to expect something innovative, something he had never thought of before. Severus knew that he could not fail. If he and Saloma hadn't grown so close over the years, and if Severus did not care to impress the Dark Lord, he would have told her to stuff it.

The weeks went on, and Severus developed one of the potions. Saloma was very pleased, and she even openly commended him at the next USDL meeting.

"Severus, please step forward," she had called, coldly beckoning him.

He had taken half a step into the semi-circle, and some of the older students glared at him underneath dark brows.

"Severus has been doing some truly brilliant work for the Dark Lord," she said. "You will definitely be seeing the effects of it soon."

Severus stepped back quickly, and sent an annoyed look at Saloma. He hated being called out, and she knew that. She smirked at him.

Later, Judas demanded Severus tell him what he was doing, and how he had gotten to do this for the Dark Lord.

"I bet it has something to do with Potions," Virginia had said, toying with her clear crystal class. It had dark, amber liquid in it that caught the dim light and reflected the sea-green color of her eyes.

"Severus does like to show off in Potions," Jezzy contributed nastily. Her mouth was stained dark carmine from her wine. "I mean, everyone knows about it, especially when he is paired up with that Evans-bitch."

Severus ignored Jezzy's jibes, and considered the truth of her statement. Severus and Lily did routinely carry the class into realms that no one else could follow or understand. Sometimes, it became a class solely dependent on the two of them and Slughorn.

Judas pulled Severus aside later in the boy's lavatory, and asked him if he could know more about his project, anything at all. Severus knew he was just trying to show initiative, but there was nothing Judas could do for him. The only thing he was relatively good at was Transfiguration, and even if he did display some proficiency in Potions, Severus wouldn't have wanted or needed his help in any way. So he refused, saying he was almost finished the project, and needed no real help at all.

Judas just stared at him in defiance and desperation. Severus knew that Judas' father was very influential and integrated in the Dark Lord's inner circle (or so he probably thought, for Severus knew that an inner circle in regards to the Dark Lord didn't even exist), and so he was sure Judas' father pushed Judas very far to do anything that would result in the Avery family looking better and stronger in the Dark Lord's eyes.

Severus said no, again, stronger this time. Judas' eyes dropped down to stab through Severus' chin. Severus took this momentary lapse of determination to skirt around Judas' bulk and hurry to the door.

From that point on, Judas was a bit colder towards Severus, but Severus did not particularly care. He resented answering to Judas' nosiness, and his dirty eagerness to appease the Dark Lord. He was actually sick of all his housemate's obsessions with the USDL; usually the work they were expected to do for the USDL took precedence over their schoolwork!

But Severus continued to ignore their obsequiousness, and began spending more and more time with Lily.

Most evenings after dinner, they took walks together around the lake. It was something they had always done, almost since the beginning of their schooling together. Then, he would walk her back to Gryffindor tower, and proceed to the Room of Requirement.

The walks with Lily were tense.

They met just outside the front doors, as usual. He had actually been nervous that she would not be there, but she had been waiting patiently, staring out over the steps into the grounds. She had greeted him with a tight-lipped grimace, and his stomach had dropped down a couple of inches into his intestine. She had started off towards the lake without a word, her arms folded underneath her breasts and her hair swept back away from her face in a neat ponytail.

He could have asked her about her classes, but their schedules were pretty comparable. Usually, they spent the bulk of their time complaining about a lot of the students in their class, but he couldn't find anything to bring up. Finally, she asked about his mother.

"She's doing fine," he had answered mechanically.

"Any research you can talk about?"

His mother did Potions research for the Ministry, and although a lot of the information was top secret, she did relay some information to him. Severus assumed anything she told him, he could tell Lily.

"Not since I told you about the Nerve-Tingling advancement," he replied, sorry he couldn't fuel their conversation.

The next few evenings were quite the same. Her arms were folded across her jacket, and she routinely clicked her tongue against her teeth to give sound to the stillness permeating the air. It was sort of miserable.

"Has Potter been incorrigible?"

"As ever he always was."

He felt they were going to walk into oblivion without ever breaking past superficial conversation.

"Has Petty sent you any post?"

"Why in Merlin's name should she?"

They walked into more silence, and he was struck with a sort of intense fifth dimension that only existed between them. If he glanced down at their waists, an infinite slice of air crackled between their hips. He felt like he was dreaming, and maybe he was, but he wanted to reach his hand down and slip it into that slice in the air, and widen it, so that their bodies could slide inside and disappear forever.

He looked back up at her; her long, curved nose ended in a cute point directed away from him, and her lips were folded into her mouth. He wanted to taste those lips. And he wondered if they would ever transcend the limbo they hovered in, puppet strings stapled to their arms and shoulder blades.

He longed to tell her things, things about himself that she had never known. He always knew that she was so immersed in herself that she rarely saw the emotions of others around her. She could never know how enamored he was. He was certain her nosy friends, especially that Josie Figg, would have seen through his cold armor, and would have told her what they thought. But she would never believe them. She thought a lot of Severus Snape, but she didn't think he was good enough to love.

In fact, he was certain she was sure he was incapable of love, especially for someone like her. She had spelled it out in black and white certainty at the end of last term, and he was sure her sentiments hadn't changed.

Their evenings faded into a gorgeous October, one full of stormy, windy nights, and wet, bright mornings. They did their potions projects together, and he fell more and more in love with her. Every morning he woke, sure that his love for her could in no way deepen to further depths, and every evening he was proven wrong, when he realized another reason why he loved her

The time he spent walking with her around the lake was separate from all of his other time. It was like everything up at the castle, or in Hogsmeade or London, stopped, and didn't continue ticking until they said their goodnights. They slipped further and further into their Fifth Dimension, where there was no substance to anything, and flat planes were acceptable. Her freckles were just as real as they were imagined, and sometimes he wondered if they would peel off and disintegrate in his hands if he touched her cheeks.

They had spent so many times together it amazed Severus they could not find anything to talk about. His conscience urged himself to confess his affections to her, but he could not allow himself to fall at her feet, especially when their friendship was already in jeopardy.

She was very busy most evenings, after their walks. She had study groups with the Ravenclaws, and Potions tutoring, and Charms and Arithmancy Clubs. Needless to say, she was much more involved in the politics of the school than he was. But this was something important to a Gryffindor, who cared much more for her true friends than anything else.

She was completely different from the Slytherins he spent so much time with.

And she hated those Slytherins, and the time he spent with them. He knew she thought he could be so much better than he was; if only she knew the sort of things he was already capable of, like dappling in the darkest of arts that potion brewing had to offer a person.

"Severus, I want to talk to you."

It was mid-October now, and the fading light brought the vibrant green out of her eyes to reflect on her cheeks. She had stopped the flow of their walk and was standing next to a gigantic rock half immersed in the cloudy lake water. She was biting her lip, and looked vaguely concerned.

He waited for her to continue.

"But you absolutely cannot, on the basis of our friendship, tell anyone!"

He said he wouldn't.

"Josie's pregnant," she blurted out.

Severus let this information sink in, as he thought about one of Lily's closer friends. Josabella Figg was a pureblood, whose mother and father were both Aurors for the Ministry. Severus knew that she was a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and contributed to the brilliance the Gryffindor Chasers were known for, along with James Potter and Dirk Cresswell, a muggle-born fifth year. He also knew that she was studying Divination, and he always thought she looked kind of sloppy and lazy whenever he saw her. Her tie was always knotted the wrong way, and her robes were never buttoned, and she always fell asleep at the Gryffindor table in the mornings. Severus knew this, because he was usually watching Lily when she had to shake Josie awake so she could make her first class on time.

He also knew that she was the last person he ever thought would get pregnant. She didn't seem like the sort of girl who messed around, even if she did have a penchant for flirting with boys. Her sexual deviance ended there.

"With who?" Severus asked this calmly, as Lily turned away from him and stared at the rock, as if there were runes written on it for her to translate.

She said Frederick Wilkes, and Severus thought back to a time when Frederick had articulated his attraction for Josie Figg. Judas and Evan had teased him for being sweet on a blood-traitor.

He said nothing.

"She doesn't want to tell Wilkes," Lily continued. "She knows he would automatically request she follow the Abortive Steps, and she doesn't want it to end in death. So she is just going to conceal it for the duration of her pregnancy. She isn't due until mid-June anyways."

"And then what is she going to do?"

"I don't know, she hasn't really thought that far ahead. She is terrified of telling her parents, do you have any idea how they would react? They would be horrified she slept with a baby Death Eater." She said this last part with conviction.

"Well what do you want me to do?" Severus asked.

She turned around and glared at him. "Nothing, absolutely nothing. I don't expect anything from you, Severus, especially not on the behalf of others."

"There really is nothing that I could do," he replied, touching her arm in a sort of strange desperation for contact. "Wilkes, even if he did know and could be persuaded to accept the baby, would have the same problem with acceptance that Josie would. It is probably better if he never even knew. I know what choice he would make, if given the two."

Her features melted into defeat. "She can't take care of an unborn baby, she doesn't even know how to take care of herself."

Everything was changing, and everyone was growing into persons unrecognizable. Severus shuddered to think how different the sixth years would be in June, especially if one of them was a premature mother.

That night, after he walked her to Gryffindor tower, he did not brew. Instead, he roamed the top floors of the castle, in a stupor plagued by dirty stone floors. His robes dragged through the grim.

"Hey, Snape!"

Severus was circling past the Fat Lady's portrait again, when he heard the reviled voice.

He turned around and saw Potter and Black striding towards him then; Lupin and Pettigrew were absent, and Potter's hair was messier than ever, the wind of his movement causing it to feather about his head in a sort of ridiculous fashion.

"What are you doing up here, Snivellus?" Black demanded, when they were both standing directly in front of them. Severus thought back to the end of last term, when he had frozen them in this very spot. He wondered what had ever come of that, and regretted that he could not have been there when they had woken. His grimace of revulsion twisted into a grim smirk.

"What are you smirking at, you Death Eater?" Potter demanded.

Severus folded his arms across his chest, inwardly jesting with himself on their penchant for asking irrelevant questions.

"The last time I checked the time, it was only seven thirty and I had the liberties of wandering wherever I pleased in the castle. Besides," Severus continued, as he ever so subtly adjusted the Prefects badge pinned to his robes," I am a Prefect, and am free to patrol the halls whenever I wish."

Potter started twirling his wand in his hand, like the annoying Hufflepuff students sometimes did with their extra long quills, and Severus considered swiping his hand out to practice his reflexive skills. Potter's wand was made of a deep mahogany, a stick of wood Potter rarely, if ever, polished. It was covered in smudges and years of use had rendered it dull and lackluster. It arced up and around his face, leaving lines of technicolor light that slipped out of the tip in the air. He could have traced the contours of some ones body in thin air, or could have written his name, James Irving Potter, in calligraphy, and the light would hover for minutes thereafter, until he banished the image.

Meanwhile, Black was pacing around the corridor, looking at a portrait of a troll who had lost his club. The troll was picking up boulders and uprooting trees to locate the lost article, while all along the club was adhered to his back by stray dung it looked like he had rolled around and slept in.

Despite what many thought, Severus and Potter had routine discourse; albeit, it was never planned, for they often met when Severus would rather do anything than see James Potter, but they still managed to relate to each other in a certain way.

Severus hated James Potter, hated every single one of his somatic cells, hated his glasses and his clothing, and his dirty wand. The only reason Severus could ever consider himself comparable to James fucking Potter was that they both suffered attractions to Lily Evans.

But Severus knew that Potter could in no way love Lily Evans the way he did: Severus breathed Lily Evans' perfume every second of the day, ate Lily Evans' essence right out of the air, grabbed the bits and pieces of Lily Evans that she accidentally left behind. He could trace every curve and nuance of her body onto a piece of paper with his eyes shut, he could probably recall every single freckle on her face, every fleck of olive and gold in her eyes, he was sure he could recount how many long, cherry-colored eyelashes grew out of her eyelids, swept her blushed cheeks, fell into the crevice made by the curve of her nostril. He practically drank the white lightning she sweated out of her pores, eternally intoxicated by the illegality.

And Potter did nothing but tempt her in ways she could never want to be tempted.

Potter just wanted Lily Evans for the fuck, and Severus was sure it would be a tight, dirty fuck if there ever were one.

Lily hated James Potter as well, but Severus was sure her hatred could never match his. Potter hated Severus, and Severus hated Potter: it was the natural order of things, and nothing could ever hope to compare to it.

Just then, the portrait hole opened again, and Severus saw Lily, Josie Figg and Emily Leach striding slowly down the corridor. It didn't even look like they knew Severus, Potter and Black were standing at the junction. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, Josie in the middle, flanked by the two sentinels as if she were fragile and in danger of being broken. She looked downcast, and Severus wondered if Lily was telling her all of the things she knew Severus would not have said about Frederick Wilkes.

They got closer, and Potter turned at their quiet, murmured voices. Emily sighed in annoyance, and rolled her eyes, as if she couldn't bear to deal with Round 1516 of Severus Snape vs. James Potter.

Potter opened his mouth, but Lily cut him off with a noise reminiscent of a lioness defending its newborn cubs.

"Not right now, Potter," she said vehemently, iciness freezing the threads of her words.

He ignored her. "Where're you all going?"

"I need a smoke," Emily replied quickly, with her arms crossed over her chest. She had a long and thin cigarette tucked behind her ear, hidden in the masses of her wiry hair. "We're going to the balcony."

"Evans, I've got your boyfriend here," Potter said, turning back to Severus with an evil glint in his eye. He continued twirling his wand mischievously, and Black was creeping up behind Emily, an odd look on his face as he stared at her ass, his eyes drooling.

Lily ignored him, smiled tentatively at Severus, and then led Josie away from them down the hall. Emily followed, sending Black a nasty look over her shoulder. When she passed Severus, she looked at him in detached curiosity, as if wondering herself what he was doing up in Gryffindor territory.

After they were out of hearing range, Potter turned to Black with an annoyed smirk on his face.

"Earth to Sirius. Could you tear your eyes away from Leach's ass?"

Black looked at Potter with a lecherous gleam in his eyes.

Severus rolled _his_ eyes, and then flicked his wand ever so slightly to the left. Before the boys even knew what happened Severus held both of their wands in his left hand. They both immediately went on the offensive.

"Look Snivellus," Potter started, slipping into muggle-fighting mode. "Give us our wands back and we won't do anything to you."

"Like I could believe anything you two cowardly whelps have to say," Severus replied smoothly. "This is a perfect prelude of what would happen to the both of you if you ever met me alone outside of this castle."

And he pointed his wand at them both, and implanted in their minds images of the three of them in an alley in Hogsmeade. Severus had already silently disarmed the both of them, and Black and Potter were running away from him, wandless and starkers. Severus even was able to foreshadow a cold, frosty and humiliating day. Black and Potter both expelled icy clouds of breath into the corridor.

"You are so full of shit, Snivellus," Black snarled. "Now give us back our wands, and we'll show you who the true coward is."

Severus took the three wands in his hands and began to juggle them; bits of metallic colored sparks flew out of the ends every so often, and landed on the thick oriental carpeting. The smell of singed fiber floated up into their nostrils.

"I think I might hide these wands somewhere," Severus contemplated, frowning slightly. "I mean, you don't really need them, do you? It might do some of the younger students some good, if you don't have them for a few days. They can get their hair turned back to its right color or un-wedge their underpants from their ass-cracks before you badger them again."

"Since when do you care about the younger students, you giant prick?" Potter demanded.

Severus had to admit he didn't really care about the younger students. In fact, he thought they were insatiably annoying and secretly enjoyed the terrors that Potter and his friends rent upon them; of course, he would never admit that to anyone.

Severus just ignored him, and then began to hover the wands in between the three of them. He twirled his wand around in small circles, and the wands chased each other around the corridor. They hovered tantalizingly in front of Black and Potter just long enough for the boys to lunge out and attempt to grab them before they raced off again. Black lost his balance, flailed his arms around desperately, and caught Potter by the back of his robes. They both went tumbling down at Severus' feet, and Severus was struck with an immediate and brilliant idea. Within seconds, Black and Potter were howling in discomfort, as their wands were lodged between their butt cheeks in an unmentionable area. Now Potter would be forced to polish his wand.

Severus turned away from them in satisfaction, and began walking down the corridor. It would be impossible for the two boys to get the wands out without disrobing in the middle of the corridor; they would have to walk back through their common room with long "unknown" instruments sticking perpendicular out of their behinds.

"Snivellus, you fucking bastard," he heard Potter yell. "You are going to pay for this."

"Dearly," Sirius said. Severus could almost hear tears of shame choking his voice.

Severus walked quickly down the corridor now. Lily and her friends had been gone a while, and he didn't want to chance running into them on their way back to the common room. He thought too soon, though.

The hall that met the staircase he was taking downstairs intersected with another hallway. Before he could even grab the banister, he heard a strangled cry from halfway down the corridor, and he looked instinctively up.

Josie was walking quickly and purposefully towards him, trailed by Lily and Emily, who both looked defeated. When she got closer, he could see stray strands of her corkscrew curls stuck to her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Snape," she said, a desperate plea hidden in her voice. "Tell me what you told Lily about Frederick."

Severus now found himself choking on his words. He had never talked to Josie Figg before, and had never really had the urge to. He always assumed she felt the same way towards him that 80 percent of the student body felt.

"Uh," he said lamely.

"She already told me everything, how you think Frederick would want me to give the baby up." Fresh tears began falling from her eyelashes, and they coated her face in a clear river of salt, blurring the mass of freckles that covered her face, but her voice didn't waver. "Please, tell me if this is what you honestly think."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and then settled for a silent nod of assent.

She sniffled violently; a trail of snot had started running out of her nose and down the crevice of her upper lip.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked the air. Lily came up behind her and enveloped her in her arms.

Severus took this as the cue to exit quickly and smoothly.

He was down three floors before he slowed his pace. He felt a little bit of remorse for the girl, sure; albeit, she should have kept her legs closed to begin with. Anyone with half a brain would not sleep with Frederick Wilkes, or any of his Slytherin housemates, in fact, without using proper contraceptive charms or potions.

He muttered "Percunctor tempus," to his wand, and small, electric blue numbers and letters hovered over the tip.

2000 hours.

It was very early, and Severus considered going back up to the Room of Requirement to work some more on his projects, but then thought better. Lily and her friends were still there, and Josie was probably still making a miserable scene. He did not want to have to suffer through anything else like that in the near future.

He was contemplating exactly what he wanted to do when Saloma's auburn owl conveniently swooped into the darkened corridor from the nearest window. She had a knack for showing up with requests from Saloma when he least wanted any interaction with her.

She didn't even bother to look at him, just dropped the letter at his feet and swooped out another window.

He bent down and plucked the letter up, absentmindedly untying the loose strands of hair from the roll of torn parchment. He threw them on the ground before a quick, whispered "incendio". Then he walked quickly to stand underneath the nearest wall lamp.

"**Any****updates?****Meet me south side of lake to chat."**

He scorched the letter, and proceeded downstairs slowly and leisurely.

When he reached her, it was 8:45 p.m., and he didn't really care. She was sitting on a cold looking boulder, her long black hair stirring slightly in the wind. If she had wanted to hide from anything, she would have a very hard time, for she was wrapped in some sort of ugly, angora white fur thing that was long and had a lot ropey things in odd places. Severus thought it looked annoying and confusing to put on, sort of like an elaborate kimono.

"Ah, good, you're finally here," she said to him, when he accidentally trod on a twig and announced his presence to the entire south side of the lake. She got off the boulder quickly, and made as if she wanted to walk. "What took you so long anyways? I was hoping we could be done with this by 9."

"I got held up," he said tersely. He didn't want to walk around the lake, so he leaned against the boulder stubbornly.

"So you want updates? What sort of updates do you want? I just told you I completed one of the potions last week."

"No small-talk tonight, Severus?" she asked, trying to be playful. "You're just all business, and I like it." She tried to be flirtatiously coy by toying with one of the assorted strings hanging from her waist and bodice, but it didn't have the desired effect. Severus just looked dumbly at her for several seconds before turning away and feigning annoyed disinterest.

"Ok, fine, if you want to be a complete bore, as usual, we can get on with this," she said resolutely, propping her hands on her waist. "I, along with the other seventh years, will be initiated in a little over a week. I hoped to present all of our work to the Dark Lord then. What is taking so long? The potions need to be ready soon, so that I can prepare everything else accordingly. All I needed you to do was the potion work; I'm doing the rest of the theory work, the presentation, everything."

Severus rolled his eyes again. He didn't really care about Saloma's project, but he knew that if he expressed any sort of reluctance to finish it now, that reluctance would travel all the way up the hierarchy of Death Eaters to Lord Voldemort and would have grown into such an offense as insubordination.

"Can't you present half of the project to the Dark Lord now, and the other half, say, before Christmas?"

"No, Severus," she said plainly. "The whole point of the potions is that they need to be used on Samhain, which only happens once a year." Now she was bordering on condescension.

Severus had two options here. (1) He could tell her to stuff it and wait for the other potion to be done late November. Or (2), he could just get on with the theatrics she was so good at, humor her for ten minutes, during which time he would explain phases and steps in the potion that she would not be able to follow.

Because Severus too cared a lot about what the Dark Lord thought of him, he couldn't very well just walk away from the opportunity, especially after all the time he had been working on it. Saloma's fingernails were really starting to dig into his skin, though.

"If I don't sleep for the next seventy-two hours, I should be able to have it to you by the twentieth."

She considered this for a few moments, and then nodded. "Gera has some speed, do you want some?"

Severus looked at her like she was disembarking an alien spaceship that had almost just landed on top of him.

"It keeps you awake, is all," she shrugged.

"No," he said shortly, silently adding _you fucking moron_. "Is that all you needed of my services, oh Mistress of the Night?"

She snarled delicately at him, if that could even be done. "You think you are such a sarcastic genius, Severus. Really, you are nothing but a great git."

"I'm glad you have so much wit to contribute to this conversation," he said. "As much as I would enjoy staying and reviling in your brilliant drollery, I must be going back to my secret lab so I can slave away the next three days for you."

"Where is your lab, Severus?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret now, would it?" he replied slowly, enunciating every inflection of his words in case she couldn't understand.

"Good night," she said shortly, and then walked away around the lake, disappearing in less than ten seconds.

Severus expelled a long breath of air, and began walking back up to the castle. The wind had started to pick up, and when he got to the stone steps, dead leaves were being pushed hither and thither by it. They scuttled across the stones like an army of curled, amputated hands, screeching and scrambling against the force.

A/N: Parts of this chapter were harder to write than others; also, my schoolwork is heating up, which partially explains the delay. Reviews would be nice, since so many people are reading this. My other fic, Yankee Accents, has ten times the number of reviews and not nearly as many readers. Where do y'all go after reading? Tell me what you think: good, bad, maybe why you don't think it warranted a review in the past? I love to hear people's thoughts…

Still need a beta.

Thanks for reading.


	8. Interlude, James Potter

Sometimes We Die

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Eight: **Interlude, James Potter

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be.

I just want to straighten some things out, between you and I.

First of all, Snape has no idea what he's talking about when he talks about me, or Sirius, or anyone else I know, except maybe Lily Evans.

I mean, the guy has known her for longer than anyone else at Hogwarts, and the girl is an enigma. No matter what I do, I can't get her to like me. She just ends up spending more time with that greasy excuse for a friend. I just don't really get it…

Anyways, Snape is not credible. He doesn't really know how to be a person, at least a relatable person, and this is the major problem. He is a sneaky, scheming Slytherin whose loyalties only are for Lord Voldemort, the lunatic who is appearing more and more in the news. I would say Lord Voldemort is comparable to Jack the Ripper, but this would in no way illustrate the sheer terror he is instilling in the wizarding population. He is more like Charles Manson, in that he is inspiring a cult of followers to aid him in the murders of innocent and honest people.

And why should any normal person be interested in this?

Snape was a wrong sort from the start: he came to Hogwarts with Dark Arts leaking out of his ears. His mouth practically itches to try out the newest antagonistic spells he has invented on unsuspecting victims. Oh yes, I know he has a little bank of spells he dips into whenever he needs something unpredictable and creative to attack with.

Snape has no friends; _Slytherins_ don't have friends. They have acquaintances, people they manipulate until they have no better use for them. Judas Avery and Evan Rosier are boys no one likes, and I'm sure Snape cannot stand them either. It doesn't really matter though, what Snape wants, because chances are he is never going to get it.

Snape is one of those people whose entire existence is a negative exposure. He practically walks around with a lightning cloud hovering over him (sorry about the cliché). Nothing ever goes right for him, and if something starts out all right, it will end in disaster no one could ever have foreseen. He is living example of Murphy's Law.

Now this does not mean I have any pity for the boy. He brings all of this negativity on himself. If he didn't parade around the castle like the great prick that he is, I wouldn't antagonize him so much.

Well, maybe that's not true. But I'm trying to persuade you to not look on my character the way Snape wants you to.

Because he really knows nothing about me, or my friends.

How could he know anything about the idea of friendship? I am 99% certain that, if given the choice between his life and Lily's, he would choose his life.

In a heartbeat.

But maybe it's that 1% that makes such a difference.


	9. Death Eater Attacks and Tunnels

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Nine: **Death Eater Attacks and Tunnels

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Saturday, October 18, 1975_

_Evening_

Emily was leaning over the balcony; her cigarette tip was glowing red in the clear night air and thin tendrils of white-gray smoke curled up and hugged the sharp edges of the stars.

Josie was propped against the wall near the door, her arms folded haphazardly against her body, pulling her jacket tighter around her back. Her eyes, the dark lake blue color that they were, stared out past me into the breezy night. She choked a little bit on her constricting heart forcing itself up into her throat.

I didn't know what to say; there was nothing I really _could_ say. I had already told her what Severus had said about Frederick, but it had been reiterative information in her brain. Hearing it spoken out loud only transformed it into a tactile concept.

Emily flicked her stub of cigarette over the ledge of the balcony, and rocked back away from the edge to turn to us. She had nothing in her eyes, and Josie looked to her for an answer.

"If it was me," she said slowly, "I would go to Madam Pomfrey."

"No," Josie shook her head. "I won't."

I wouldn't either, but maybe these bits of humanity are what made such a difference at the end of all things.

She pushed herself off the wall and started pacing from one side of the small balcony to the other. Her hands were wringing in front of her body, and Emily met my gaze across the space; her jaw was rigidly set in a sort of grimace that I assumed was to show strength. It only looked like she was clenching her mouth so it wouldn't tremble.

I had never seen Emily cry, and was sure I never would, for she always commandeered a steely countenance, but it struck me in that moment to see her emotions leaking out a little bit. Her glass gray eyes fused with the pinpricks of stars behind her in confused and frustrated resignation, because she knew what to do and didn't understand why Josie refused to do the obvious and rational thing.

I turned away from them both and leaned over the cold stone railing. The night air was alive with metallic light and subtle movement. Josie's cracking knuckles filled the air with clear and bitter sound, like the snap of a twig underfoot. Suddenly she gave a sharp intake of breath, and I heard the door open. I turned around and followed her back into the castle, with Emily right beside me.

Josie was walking a little bit ahead of us, purpose in her stride. I saw Severus cut across the mouth of the hall, heading towards the stairs. Josie called out his name and quickened her pace even more. I saw him stop hesitantly at the top of the stairs, his expression crossed between confusion and alarm.

"Snape. Tell me what you told Lily about Frederick."

I couldn't believe she was talking to Severus. She had always seemed ambivalent about my relationship with him, but I assumed she preferred to ignore his existence when it had nothing to do with me. Severus stared at her dumbly, and it was one of the first times I had ever come across him not having anything to say. Her blotchy and red face probably took him aback and left him lost for words.

"Uh," he articulated, leaving his mouth hanging open.

Josie took a deep breath. "She already told me everything, how you think Frederick would want me to give the baby up. Please, tell me if this is what you honestly think."

Severus resembled a fish gasping for air under water, and then gave a curt nod.

Josie's shoulders curled over in defeat, and I immediately walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. Her collarbone jutted into my arms and the space behind her ears smelt like some kind of peachy shampoo. I didn't even notice Severus racing down the stairs, but Emily told me later that he had looked kind of funny, with an appalled expression gracing his usually tight facial features.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, turning her face towards mine. I was so close to her cheeks I saw that the shield of freckles on her face was flawed: there were bits and pieces of pale white skin shining through the dark sunspots, clear pieces of a child's smooth skin smothered underneath the hazy veneer of salty tears coating her cheeks.

Emily coughed gently behind me. No matter how close we all were to one another, she would never be comfortable enough to embrace our raw emotions; sometimes I found myself wondering if she had any to deal with herself.

I let go of Josie and she settled into her sadness, wiping the tears out of the pockets under her eyes. She hiccoughed a couple of times, and gave us both a tight-lipped smile.

"I just have to deal with it one day at a time, I guess," she said quietly.

I nodded slowly and Emily rubbed her nose.

We headed back to the common room, the blush in Josie's cheeks fading quickly.

We reached the Fat Lady, I spoke the password, and she swung open dramatically, preparing us for what we were to meet inside. Before we had even stepped over the ledge, we could hear loud, raucous laughter around the curve in the passage.

The entire common room was falling over uproariously at Potter and Black, who were trying desperately to get up to their rooms, but were blocked by people on the stairwell, who had come down to investigate the cause for noise.

I didn't know exactly what everyone was laughing at until Potter turned sideways and I saw something long protruding from his bottom. I burst into laughter, and almost fell to the ground when I realized Sirius had befallen the same fate.

"What in Merlin's name is up their bums?" Josie gasped to a fourth-year standing by.

"Their wands, I think," he replied, snickering into his first.

Emily snorted, and her shoulders started to shake with silent laughter.

Potter turned and faced the entrance, and when he saw the three of us, strode towards me with fury in his eyes and humiliation on his cheeks.

"Do you know who did this to me?" he demanded rhetorically.

I said nothing; I was laughing too hard.

"Snivellus," he said loudly. In the background I could see Sirius simultaneously trying to hid his problem and fight his way out of the arena.

"Well then, I'll have to congratulate him on a job well done," I said, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.

"Get it out now, you **have** to know the spell."

I snorted. "You think even if I knew the counter-spell, I would help you? You must be barking mad."

"God, I hate that sodding bastard," he growled, his hands balled into tight fists. "He wouldn't stand a chance against me and Muggle-fighting."

"Oh, so you're admitting he's better at wand-work than you, huh?"

Potter glared at me through his glasses, which were glinting rather angrily against the light from the overhead chandelier, and then he turned away from me without another word. I didn't know what he was going to do though, because the crowd in the common room was intent on the two of them stripping in front of them to remove their wands.

Just then, the portrait hole opened up again behind us, and we moved quickly out of the way so we weren't blocking the entrance. It was Peter and Remus, carrying their bags and looking bewildered at the unusual amount of people in the common room.

"What's going on?" Remus asked Emily, who was closest to him.

"You'll never believe what Snape did to Sirius and James," she replied, pointing to the staircase, where Potter and Black were now attempting to push past the wall of bodies, to no avail. "He spelled their wands up their arse-holes."

Peter looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or rage; Remus just chuckled a small bit, and then walked over to them, whispered something into their ears, and then the four of them left the common room, Potter glaring hatefully at me as he past. I simpered back.

The entire common room seemed to give a sigh of protest, as it was obvious they were going somewhere else to relieve their problem. Everyone went back to studying or sleeping, or whatever he or she had been doing beforehand.

"Utterly classic," Josie said to Emily and me, her misery momentarily forgotten, and I blessed Severus in my mind for making that possible. "I will never forget that."

_Monday, October 20, 1975_

_Mid-Afternoon_

"So are you excited about the Halloween stuff?" Josie asked me a couple of days later during a study break. I was writing an essay for my Charms class, specifically the charms used on a particular potion of my choice, and the mechanics, chemical reactions, etc., each had on the overall finished project. Flitwick really did a good job of catering to the sixth and seventh years choice of specialty.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied absently. "Has Dumbledore said anything about it, yet?" I jotted down in the margin of my notes an interesting anecdote about a type of thickening charm to be used in the third stage of the brewing of Veritaserum.

"No, it's all supposed to be a surprise, apparently," she said. She was filling out an intricate chart that considered many different aspects of the stars, planet alignment, moon alignment, etc., and just looking at it made me dizzy. "I'm thinking of bringing a date though, you know?"

"Oh really?" I asked. "Who?"

"Frederick," she replied sheepishly, scribbling furiously on her parchment.

"Oh," I said, raising my eyebrows a little bit. I had mixed feelings regarding Frederick Wilkes. There was no doubt he was attractive: he had dark, dark auburn hair, and eyes the color of a knife-edge. He was quiet and smart, for he was usually in my advanced classes, but he was also a Slytherin and probably subscribed to the Slytherin Code of Conduct, especially since he was a pureblood.

"Yeah," she said, looking up to stare out the window. We were sitting in the library, having snagged a good table next to a window. "I mean, as long as I can keep this from him, I think it should be fine. Are you thinking of asking anyone?"

"Me? Why would I want to ask anyone? Potter's going to be badgering me about going with him for the next week and a half. That's enough to deal with before the night."

Josie doodled a little bit in her textbook next to a picture of the moon phases, but didn't say anything.

"Besides," I continued. "You know I don't even really like things like this party. I mean, honestly. We don't need to have something like this, right in the middle of first term."

Josie just stared at me, and then glanced down at her books again. "I think I'm done studying for now," she said. "I'm going to head up for History." She quickly packed her bags up.

"Okay, see you at dinner," I said. We smiled at one another, and then she left.

I looked out the window then. The library sat on the side of the castle that hung over the cliff, and so some seats in the library, if they were paired with windows, could be very distracting. The particular window I was looking out of detailed a splendid view of the lake, beyond which lay Hogsmeade. Lovely amber, gold and red leaves blanketed the trees that surrounded the lake. Beyond Hogsmeade, mountains stood, peppered with the dark green of pine or the brilliant colors of autumn. I could see some of the closer trees swaying in a cold breeze, the leaves clinging to their branches and holding on desperately. Thin tendrils of smoke curled into the air from several of the chimneys at the edge of Hogsmeade, a sweet prelude to winter, and Christmas, which was my favorite holiday.

I thought of Christmas, and family, which invariably included Petunia, and then I thought of how miserable she had tried to make the last few holidays for me. The last one stuck as particularly potent in my mind; I had sat through gift-giving, Christmas dinner, almost had gotten through pudding before her not-so-subtle insinuations regarding my intelligence, mental capacity, behavior, et cetera, became to much for me and I excused myself from the house to walk around the block a couple of times.

I had known Severus' Christmas experiences were usually as painful as mine. We found each other wandering the streets that Christmas night, looking like ghosts blending perfectly with the fog of the streets, and the misty breath of our expelled air. All we hoped to do was blend with those closest to us, but this could never be. And so we haunted the streets, trading leaking wounds, filling each other's infinite divots of pain with some sort of unknown unguent.

And yet, now incorporating him back into my life now was like trying to stuff a torn out piece of paper back into place in a notebook. It's hard to find where to put it, because the pages don't line up neatly anymore, and the edges stick out. Every time you hold it in the crook of your arm, the loose page bothers your skin. The corners and edges get soft, wrinkled, torn, and eventually the paper gets so annoying that you decide you don't care about the information on the page anymore. It's more worth your while to just throw it into a trash bin and not have to think about it or to wonder where it is ever again.

I knew that I could never throw Severus away, literally, metaphorically, whatever. He was so much more than a piece of paper in my life; he was chapters eleven through infinity. But once he had been a real and breathing part of me; I felt he was separate from me now, a loose, breathing leaf of paper, fluttering away, delving into darkness I knew nothing of—

Boom!

I was jolted out of my reverie by the sound of someone dropping a very large book not too far away from me, and I glanced to see that my quill had been resting on what used to be my last paragraph of notes, but was now a blotch of black ink.

I quickly put my research and books away, and began walking out of the library. I threaded my way through the stacks for a few minutes before lighting upon a section set into a wall, surrounded by windows. A table and chairs was set into it: Severus and several other Slytherins were sitting there studying, and looked up when I stubbed my toe on a bookcase in surprise.

Severus grinned, and I blanched back, as we both realized this was probably the first time I had ever stumbled upon his friends and him in such neutral territory.

He was sitting with Frederick Wilkes (what a coincidence), Virginia Travers, Thomas Gamble and Tori Shelsher, and I relaxed a little bit. They were just Slytherins, and this particular group of people weren't nearly as intimidating as if, say, Jezebel Rosier or Judas Avery had been sitting there with them.

They all stared up at me; Virginia was smirking and Severus had an odd expression on his face.

"Evans," Thomas Gamble grumbled, nodding vaguely in my direction. He had oak colored hair and a face full of angles. Next to him sat Virginia, who had fine mahogany colored hair that fell in a transparent sheet to her waist, and exquisite features, including huge eyes the color of a clear green sea. Next to her was Severus, and then there was Frederick Wilkes, whose back was to me. Beside him sat Tori, who was sort of chubby, and had thick, fluffy looking hair that fell to her shoulders.

"Hey, Evans," Tori suddenly said. "You're relatively good at Charms, right?" This was a bit of an understatement: Flitwick had told me before that I was the most brilliant student he had taught in Charms since Albus Dumbledore. "None of us can get through this assignment."

"Speak for yourself," Frederick said nastily, not even bothering to look around at me.

Tori ignored him, and then stared at me. I just stared back at her.

"Did you ask her a question?" Virginia asked Tori pointedly.

"I thought that was the whole point of me talking to her," Tori said matter-of-factly.

I snorted contentiously. "Maybe the reason you don't know how to do the assignment is because you don't know how to properly form a question."

"Look, if you don't know the answers to the assignment, bugger off," Tori snapped.

Virginia turned to me, a mock apologetic look on her face. "I think what Tori is trying to do is ask for help, but her Slytherin pride is getting in the way," she said blandly.

I narrowed my eyes at Virginia, who was receiving a stink eye from Tori, and then looked over Frederick's shoulder to see what they were working on together. It was the worksheet on the basic types of charms accompanying advanced Transfiguration, and Frederick hadn't even gotten past a crossed out 'the' on question one. I also noticed that not a single one of them had a charms text out.

"Okay, well it's really simple if you have your book. The chapter on Transfiguration is entirely devoted to this subject. Each charm gets a separate section."

None of them said anything for a few moments; an embarrassed silence crept around the table, and I was awestruck. I didn't think Slytherins even knew what embarrassment was, let alone how to feel it.

"Why didn't any of you think to use your book?" I ventured.

Thomas shrugged his right shoulder and then reached into his bag under the table to get his book. The rest of them followed suit.

"Thanks, Evans," Tori said distractedly, as she flipped to the appropriate section. Severus turned around and smiled at me with his eyes. I turned and walked quickly out of the library, feeling vaguely weirded out by the Slytherin's uncharacteristic lack of common sense.

I was halfway to Defense class when Professor McGonagall's voice invaded the silence of the halls.

"Everyone report to the Great Hall immediately, no exceptions."

I stopped in my tracks. McGonagall had never called the entire student body to the Great Hall before; usually the Heads of Houses just announced anything important at a House meeting. I walked quickly through some more halls and down three more flights of stairs and came upon the Great Hall, where I could see people swarming around their respective tables.

I spotted Josie and Emily standing with the other sixth year Gryffindors, and hurried over to them.

"What do you think this is all about?" Josie demanded as soon as I got within hearing range.

"I have no idea," I replied. Potter stared at me from behind Remus, who has standing next to Emily.

"Something bad must have happened," Pettigrew observed. He was sitting at the table next to Mary, who was rifling through the Prophet.

"Sound observation," I heard Severus say acidly from behind me. "McGonagall thought it would be more worth our while to come here and play friendly games with one another than to go to classes."

"Go back to your own table, Snivelly," Potter said.

Severus ignored him, and turned to me. "You dropped this on your way out of the library." He held up my black moleskine. "Tori and Virginia, and ultimately Jezebel, would have had a field day with it if I hadn't wrestled it away from them."

"Thanks so much, Sev," I gushed, momentarily forgetting Potter and Black were standing feet away from the two of us.

Severus flushed crimson, and his eyes flashed angrily at the pet name he had told me never to use in public. I bit my lip, waiting for the rush of repercussions certain to come.

"Sev?" Potter immediately said, a huge grin spreading itself across his features. He elbowed Black playfully in the ribs next to him. "Sev? That's _almost_ worse than Sevvie. You tolerate that, Snape?"

Severus took a deep breath in, as Black let out loud ripping laughter.

"Sev Snape," he said. Severus' face began to color to a dark purple, and he glared at me hatefully.

"Sevvie Sev Snape," Potter countered.

"Snivellus Snape."

"Great, oily bat, Sevvie, Sev, Sev," Potter taunted.

"Shut the bloody hell up, you two!" I said loudly, reaching into my bag for my wand. "Merlin, can't you ever get over yourselves? Your jealously is so obvious, Potter. I don't like you and I never will, but constantly demoralizing my friend certainly isn't helping your case. And Black, you're just a needy puppy, constantly following his lead," I continued, brandishing my wand at Potter. Emily moved quickly out of the way. "Can't you think for yourself for once in your life?"

"Woah, Evans," Potter said, holding his hands out in front of him in questionable compromise. "Keep your knickers on."

The hex was halfway out of my mouth when McGonagall came up behind me and harshly rebuked my antics.

"Miss Evans! What're you doing? Don't you think I called this meeting for a reason? It wasn't so you could argue commonly over some name-calling. Pull yourselves together and consider for once that maybe there're more important things going on than your petty bickering."

I turned around to mutter an apology to her, but she was already sweeping past us and heading up to the teacher's table. Severus had disappeared as well.

"Attention," she said as soon as she breached the platform. "ATTENTION!"

The Hall immediately echoed silence.

"Now, I don't want any of you to be alarmed. You all need to act as if you are more than mature enough to be allowed ten months away from your parents guidance each year, even you first years." She paused here, gulping visibly, and if I were close enough to her, I probably would have noticed her hands shaking. "There has been a mass Death Eater attack on a nearby town, Ullapool. It is very close to here, no more than fifteen kilometers."

A huge collective gasp went up around the Hall, as everyone broke into quiet, murmured conversations with their neighbors.

"Silence, please," she said, after a few minutes of this. "I am aware some of you have relatives in Ullapool. If you would please come forward now, we can discuss this in closed quarters."

Mary stood up, and looked over at us nervously.

"You live in Ullapool?" Remus asked her quickly.

She nodded before turning to meet the other students and McGonagall in the antechamber off the hall.

"Oh my gosh," I said quickly to Josie and Emily, biting my nails.

Dumbledore stood up then, and raised his hands for silence.

"No one will leave the castle for anything, is this understood?" he rumbled ominously. "I am barring all of the exits with alarms, and will be immediately notified if anyone has set foot on the grounds. Classes are cancelled for the rest of the afternoon and evening, as well as any extracurricular activities, and to deter any unnecessary wandering of the halls, dinner will be served in your Common rooms. Prefect duties are obsolete this evening; the teachers and myself will be patrolling. You are all dismissed."

Everyone immediately began talking again. I noticed out of the corner of my eye Potter, Black, and Pettigrew standing around Remus, who looked sick to his stomach, but I turned away and forgot about it as Josie grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the Hall with her and Emily.

"I can't believe this is happening," she was saying.

"Ullapool is mostly Muggles," Emily supplied knowledgeably, busying herself with the strap on her bag.

"All of those poor people," I said quietly, still being led quickly up the stairs by Josie. I couldn't bear to think about them; they were being tortured right now, and it twisted my lower intestines into knots.

"Thank Merlin it wasn't Hogsmeade that was attacked," Josie said. "The castle would be under siege!"

"Lord Voldemort wouldn't attack a village like Hogsmeade right now," Emily said. "There are way too many wizards and witches, and he isn't strong enough yet, and he doesn't have enough followers either."

"How do you know how many Death Eaters there are?" I asked her.

"I don't know for sure, but I read a speculative article in the Prophet. Apparently Aurors think there are only about fifteen to twenty Death Eaters in his ranks, so why would he attack a community full of adult wizards?"

We were pushed most of the way up to the Common Room by the rest of our worrying housemates, and before I knew it we were sitting in armchairs, discussing the attack with fearful speculations. Before long, the early dinner arrived. Everyone ate in relative silence, and that was when I noticed that Potter and his friends were nowhere to be seen in the common room.

At first, I didn't really care; they would probably inappropriately be trying to raise everyone else's spirits if they had been there. But as the hour closed in on ten, and they still had not made any sort of appearance, I began to grow concerned. Not because I actually cared about Black or Potter, but because I was a Prefect and could be held accountable for their absence.

"I'm going to sleep," Josie announced at ten thirty, closing her Astronomy textbook. "I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Good night," Emily murmured from behind her Potions text. I said the same.

At eleven Emily also excused herself, and I noticed that most of the Common Room had retired. I was sitting close to the fire with my Charms text open on my lap, one of Josie's kneazles curled around my neck. She was purring loudly, as kneazles were wont to do. Over in another corner was a small group of seventh years and by the portrait hole was a group of third years playing Gobstones. I didn't know how anyone else could really sleep; I was nervous and fitful, thinking about Ullapool, and Mary's family. At twelve, I was the only one in the Common Room, and Potter and Co. still hadn't returned.

I took out my moleskine and rifled through it slowly. It was full of poetry, little things I had written; it was a standard writer's journal. I didn't asininely record every second of my menial life, like some people did. I had doodled on pages and written letters to Petunia that I would never send. I had also charmed it to be endless; there was always another page at the end.

At twelve thirty, the portrait hole opened and James Potter crept in, wary of any nosy people who had stayed up.

He was halfway across the Common Room when he noticed me sitting by the fire.

"Oh, hello Evans."

"What are you doing?" I demanded, standing up. I forgot Ginger had been wrapped around my neck, and she fell to the ground, hissing.

"Going up to my room," he replied.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Uh, in their rooms?" he replied, gesturing to the empty Common Room.

"No, you bleeding imbecile. Where're Black and Pettigrew? Where's Remus?"

"Oh," he said.

"Well?"

"Around," he said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Then he continued on upstairs.

"Hmpf," I muttered to myself. Ginger stared at me indignantly from the hearth. It wasn't long before he came downstairs again.

"Potter, where're you going?"

"Out of the Common Room," he said, pointing at the portrait hole.

"Why? And what is that you have in your hand?" He was holding a bundle of silvery purple fabric in his right hand.

"It's nothing, Evans. Are you done with the third degree? Because I really need to go."

"If you don't tell me where you're going, I'm going to follow you."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't be able to find me if you were even brave enough to break the House rules."

"Try me."

"Okay." And he turned and walked out the portrait hole. I quickly followed him.

When I stepped out of the portrait hole, the thin coldness of the hall stuck to me. The Fat Lady was snoring lightly, a teeny bit of dribble oozing out of her pink mouth. I heard Potter's footsteps ahead of me, but couldn't see him at all. It wasn't very dark either, because dim lamps illuminated the hall.

"Damn," I whispered to myself. Invisibility Cloak. "Potter, students aren't supposed to have Invisibility Cloaks!"

He chuckled lightly, and I followed the sound of his voice. "Accio Cloak," I whispered ever so lightly, but nothing happened.

"Please," he said. "You think I would be stupid enough to not put anti-summoning charms on the cloak? It's covered in protection spells. You are never getting this off my body."

I thought quickly. I couldn't grab the cloak off him, but I was certain I could attach something to him, like a gum wrapper. If I was able to attach it to the outside of the cloak, I would be able to follow that without him ever knowing.

I spotted a wadded up piece of paper in the corner, and silently tore a bit off of it. Then I changed the color of it, making it glow a pulsating bright white. I silently attached a Magneting Charm to it, and then sent it in his general direction. It floated away and glowed violently blue when it stuck to his back. He would never even know it was there.

"Evans?" I shrank back in one of the shadows and said nothing. "Evans, are you there?" He waited a few moments silently. Then he turned and moved down the hallway. I followed him not too closely, keeping one eye on the paper and another on where I was walking, so I didn't trip over anything and reveal my presence.

I had always wondered where Potter and his friends got to some nights, and maybe tonight I would finally realize the answer. I didn't think for a second that I was being stupid or nosy; they didn't need to be out wandering the grounds on any given night, especially not when there was an attack on a village so close nearby.

He walked quickly through the corridors for ten minutes or so, and then lighted upon a picture of a woman in an ugly corset and a short skirt with tulle peeking out. She had fishnets on and winked at Potter suggestively.

He poked his wand out of the cloak and tickled her right nipple. She giggled coyly and then the portrait swung open and he hurried inside. I tried to slip through as well, but the portrait shut very quickly and she stared down at me, biting her bottom lip. I just rolled my eyes at her, and used my wand tip to tickle her nipple as well. It seemed to take longer for her to open the portrait this time, but eventually she did, and I stepped quickly inside.

I was enveloped in cold, earthy air and was immediately glad I was still wearing my jumper. I could not see Potter ahead of me, so surmised there must be a curve in the tunnel. It slopped downwards gently, and I hurried after him.

We walked in the tunnel for quite some time. It was easier to keep an eye on Potter now that he had taken off his invisibility cloak. He also had his wand tip alight.

First we were going downhill for what seemed like ages; then the ground leveled out, and the ceiling was dripping. I assumed we were out from underneath the castle now. I trailed my hands along the walls and felt moist dirt adhered to bits of stone.

Potter still had no idea I was behind him.

Eventually the tunnel began to tilt upwards. I tried not to breathe heavily. It felt as if we had been walking in the tunnel for ages. The ceiling was slopping closer and closer to our heads, until we were both forced to crawl on the ground.

I lost sight of Potter for a teeny bit around what I assumed to be a bend in the tunnel. When I got around the curve, he was no longer anywhere in sight, and I had come to a dead end.

"Drats," I muttered. The dirt making up the ceiling was very dry, and rooty, and I wondered how close I was to the surface. I quickly figured that the only place he could have gone was up into the night air, and he must have somehow been able to go through the dirt ceiling, almost like a trap-door trick, as there was no way he could have apparated anywhere. I was almost positive we were still on Hogwarts grounds. But I didn't know the spell to trigger the trap-door, so I settled for blasting my way through. And bviously, a simple _Alohomora_ would not work in this instance. I racked my mind for more complex opening and blasting charms.

"Apertio," I muttered. Nothing happened. "Retego."

Still nothing happened.

"Dehisco," I said. A small bit of dirt crumbled down from the densely packed ceiling. "**Dehisco maxima!**" The dirt blasted out from my wand and fell in pattering spats to the ground. I cautiously lifted my head above ground level, and instantly froze in my tracks.

A huge, full-grown werewolf was barreling straight towards me. The snarl on his face was indescribable. The closer he got to me, the more frozen I became. My fingers dug into the earth around me and the artery in my throat was threatening to burst any second. In those short moments, my life flashed before my eyes. I saw the world as a two year old, was swinging on the neighborhood swing sets as a five year old, was receiving Christmas presents as an eight year old. I was being taunted at school as a nine year old, received my Hogwarts letter as an eleven year old, was flirted with by Potter as a thirteen year old. And then as a sixteen year old, I was facing a full-grown werewolf with no idea how to defend myself. All of my third-year training against dark creatures was sucked out of my mind with the sucking sound of a vortex. All sound had retreated to this vacuum. Time seemed to slow down, but it was not slowing down enough.

My world snapped back into focus.

The werewolf was mere feet away from the hole, and I flung my body back inside of it. I had no idea if he could fit into it, but I was not taking my chances in the open night air. Half a second later, his snout was sticking into the ground, saliva was spraying on me, his snarls reverberated against the walls of the tunnel. I was terrified beyond description. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

The werewolf's eyes were a bright, furious yellow, and there were several long and bleeding gashes on his rabid snout. His teeth were long and the color of mucous during a sinus infection. His claws scrapped dangerously at the opening, threatening to rip up the ground in his eagerness to get to me. I was sitting on my bum and scrambled back even further. I rushed back as fast as I could, and put my weight on my right wrist the wrong way; it snapped and pain rushed from the bones and tendons and escaped out of my mouth in a desperate cry of pain. He was practically inside the tunnel now, squeezing his way towards me. I could see his entire body except for his feet.

All of a sudden, some unknown force was pulling the wolf back. His snarls increased in severe intensity, and he fought with all his might to be allowed full access to my human flesh.

But his legs suddenly disappeared from view and then his hips, and midsection, his chest, his head. Something was forcibly dragging him out of the hole. I cursed myself for my curiosity, but I had to know what the cause for his retreat was. Avoiding my wrist, I slowly inched my way over to the opening again, and pulled myself up with my left arm.

Directly in front of me stood a gigantic stag, bigger than I had ever seen before, his legs staunched into the ground. Through his legs I could see the werewolf, violently struggling with a black dog almost as big as him. The stag galloped forward and caught the werewolf's waist in his antlers. He hurled him twenty feet away. The dog bolted after the werewolf, using his snout to push the werewolf further to the edge of the dark woods, about fifty feet away. The werewolf reached around and swiped at the dog, who quickly dodged it, grabbed the werewolf by one of his ankles and forcefully dragged him to the edge of the woods. The werewolf kicked out at the dogs jaw, but the fall he had suffered had knocked the wind out of him and there was no strength behind it.

I looked back at the stag; he was still standing ten feet away from the hole, staring at me oddly. Then he turned and ran away towards the forest, disappearing quickly in the darkness of the trees.

"Bloody hell," I said. I had no idea what I was going to do now. My wrist throbbed in pain, and I knew no healing spells. There was no way I was going out into the night air; I would have to crawl back in the tunnel a good ways to the portrait.

I thought hard about any sort of spell I knew to relieve at least a little bit of the pain, and then my mind happened upon a numbing spell I had read in a book one time. If I didn't do the spell the correct way, my hand would be paralyzed until a mediwitch could undo the damage. And I was sure Madam Pomfrey would not be able to do that.

I was pretty sure of the spell, and there was nothing else I could do.

"Obstupefacio."

My hand immediately went numb. I couldn't use it for anything, but at least it wouldn't hurt if I accidentally jarred it against the wall.

I stared ahead of myself. The tunnel stretched out into an unfeasible length. But going onto the grounds with a loose werewolf lumbering around was suicide.

I set out, crawling at a miserably slow pace. I was really starting to regret my idiotic nosiness concerning James Potter.

Speaking of James Potter, what in Merlin's name had happened to him? I had seen no sign of him at all when I had popped my head out. How had he gotten past the werewolf? Had it really taken me that long to get the tunnel open, that he had completely bypassed the werewolf and gone in a different direction?

My mind found this very hard to believe, but what else could have happened to him? And I had never heard before of a stag and a wolf-like dog ganging up on a werewolf. It was unprecedented, the behavior that I had witnessed that night.

I tried to look for correlations. Obviously it was the full moon. A werewolf had attacked me. Potter and Black and Pettigrew and Remus had all been missing that night. But I could not for the life of me see any sort of relationship between Potter and Co.'s lack of representation in the common room, and the werewolf.

I crawled as quickly as I could, and sooner than I expected I was walking on flat ground. The spell on my hand was strong and I felt no pain. About twenty minutes later I was pushing through the portrait hole and out into carpeted corridor. The girl in the portrait verbally pouted, but I ignored her and continued to the Hospital Wing.

"What on this earth happened, Miss Evans?" Madam Pomfrey demanded. I had entered the dark, empty Hospital Wing and sat on a bed halfway down the ward. She had been alerted in her office and had come out wearing a dressing robe and slippers.

"I had a nightmare, rolled out of my bed," I replied succinctly.

"And you landed on your wrist," she finished. "Finite Incantatum."

My wrist immediately began throbbing again. She tapped it three times with her wand, and said some complex Latin. "Cracked a couple carpals, and snapped your radius," she muttered. "Now, would you rather have a potion or spell?"

I always preferred potions as means of healing, so I opted for the former. She gave me a potion for bone repair and a potion for pain. I requested a potion for sleep, and she quickly obliged. Five minutes later I was practically unconscious.

A/N: Thanks to my readers and reviewers, and thank you so much to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.


	10. Halloween

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Ten:** Halloween

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_Carve your name into my arm,_

_Instead of stressed I lie here charmed." –Placebo_

_Friday, October 31, 1975_

_Evening_

The dreaded Halloween party had arrived.

Severus hated parties. They forced you to converse with people, and if you didn't, you were seen as rude and anti-social, which Severus was, and bully to those who weren't.

But if Slughorn caught any sort of wind, even the smallest kind, that any of his Slytherins didn't wish to attend the party, he would call them into his office for a session of intense psychoanalysis.

Severus stared at himself in the dorm mirror. He had done nothing different with his appearance; his hair was oily, his standard robes wrinkle and lint-free, his black shoes buffed. Judas, Evan and Frederick wore dress robes, but seeing as he owned none, he did not. Thomas suffered the same predicament, but Severus did not particularly care about his lack of formal appearance.

Severus walked to the Common Room full of students dressed impeccably well. Only those who were Muggleborn did not own dressrobes, and so stood out starkly against the satin and glitter of the purebloods.

"Severus, tut, tut," he heard to his left. Saloma and Gera were lounging on a sofa, their slender legs crossed underneath their expensive dresses. Crystal glasses sparkled in their hands, the deep, burgundy liquid swirling in it matching the colors on their nails and lips. "Why are you donning the same raggedy robes you wear every day?"

Severus ignored Saloma's jibe. Her heart-shaped face tilted up to look at him. Her long, black hair hung down in loopy curls, and clashed against the pale, off-white colored skin of her clavicle.

Gera uncrossed her legs, and after swallowing the rest of her drink, leaned forward a bit to set the glass on the table in front of them. Her pert breasts swung forward a little bit underneath her low-cut, thin-materialed dress, and she leaned back again against the sofa. Her Italian nose sent a shadow across her olive cheekbones. Her eyes were deep pools of black-brown color, swimming beneath her fringe of eyelashes, and staring up at him playfully. Severus scoffed at her, and turned away from them both, to walk over to his fellow sixth-years standing in front of one of the windows.

"Severus, you and Thomas are incorrigible," Jezebel said immediately, staring down at the front of his dress with a wrinkle creasing her button nose. Virginia laughed, and Judas and Evan chuckled. Frederick was staring out the window, his fist held against his mouth in a brooding fashion.

Jezebel straightened her short party dress, and smoothed back her French twist. Virginia turned to her date, a tall, dark seventh year named Oliver Carrow. He had bought her a corsage, a dark cerise set of baby roses that matched her classy ball gown. Around her neck she wore a single pearl of immense size, the largest pearl Severus had ever seen. It was a creamy iron color.

The large clock in the Common Room struck seven, and they were heading up to the Great Hall. The different types of perfume and cologne converged and twined together to hover above their heads in a glittering, opaque cloud. Ten minutes later, they were entering the Great Hall, which was decorated with thousands of long, tapered candles. The flames threw sharp shadows across the hall, and flickered on the bare shoulders of the girls. Huge, ghastly pumpkins haunted the corners of the room, and slivery patches of light denoted ghostly apparitions hovering inches above the ground, mourning the evening.

Severus and the other sixth-year Slytherins headed over to their table, sitting in their usual places halfway down. Severus made sure to sit so that he was facing the entrance doors, and his hands toyed erratically with an odd hem of the tablecloth.

Lily flounced in several minutes later, flanked on either side by Josie and Emily. They were laughing at something, and Lily's face caught in his mind, a glowing, flickering blur of peach. Potter was not far behind her, his eyes glued to the back of her head as if staring at her would finally be enough to get her to notice anything else but his inane personality.

She was dressed in a forest green, ruffled cocktail dress, strapless. Her hair was pulled back into a simple, flirty ponytail, tied together with a big, black bow. Severus imagined slipping his fingers into the knot, allowing her hair to swish and fall in waves like water down her back. Then he could unzip her dress, and peel it away from her body, to reveal the snow-white layers of skin, peppered in unexpected places with frail, lacy clumps of freckles. He imagined there would be some buried in her clavicle, and dancing along the thin stretch of skin attaching her thigh to her groin, and sprinkled like cinnamon over her lower back. Her body would be creamy and smooth and tingling with warmth, like a top layer of milk warming on the stove, and he would press his fingertips into it, as if he were molding dough for bread, gently and sweetly. Her lips would slide open, and a small sigh would seep out, a moan would escape from her throat and slip between her teeth, and her tongue would run along the seam of her lips, moistening them, anticipating the taste of his skin and mouth, the heat of his bare body pressed next to her in unconstrained passion as his fingers traced her belly button and curved over her hip to collide with –

"Severus!"

Severus blinked, and turned to look across the table at Judas, who was staring at him oddly. He looked around the table, and saw that everyone was already eating.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He shrugged a shoulder, and then put a couple things on his plate to placate his housemates, who were probably wondering what on earth had gotten into his head. Lily had long since seated herself at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by her friends. Severus sometimes imagined what it might have been like, to be in Gryffindor. Pure love hung over that table, attached to everyone and everything. Even the bleeding chairs oozed sentimentality.

"Thinking about what a bunch of clots the Gryffindors are?" Virginia asked him.

He gave her a sly smile. Of course, he would never once wish he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He would hate to think their inanities might rub off on him. But sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder.

Soon dinner was over, and Dumbledore dispelled of the tables. He announced that the Gryffindor house band would play the background music while they could mingle, dance, play the games set up around the Hall, do whatever they wished.

"The bloody Gryffindors have a band?" Jezebel demanded. Severus smirked at her reaction, purely Jezebel.

"Jezzy," Evan said. "We all know what a mesmerizing voice you have. Why don't you start a band?"

"Brilliant idea, Evan," Tori said. "And we could cater to Jezebel's obsession with herself. The name of the band could simply be, Jezebel."

Evan snickered and Jezebel snarled at Tori.

Virginia and Oliver wandered off to the center of the Hall as the band started up their first song. Evan asked Jezebel for her hand, a pureblood tradition at any function: brother and sister always danced together first. Judas left to seek out Soleil Brishen, a Slytherin seventh-year, and someone he had been interested in for several years. Thomas Gamble sought Vernette Ziegler, a mis-sorted Hufflepuff. She was the only exemption Severus knew of against the sorting hats impeccable record for sorting. She had been attending USDL meetings ever since she was first invited, but Severus also knew she liked to hang out with the Gryffindors. He didn't really know what any of that was about. Finally, it was just Severus and Frederick standing there. Rebeca and Tori had left to go find dates, and Judith had long since abandoned them to spend time with a Ravenclaw boy she was interested in.

They stood in silence for several moments, as Severus listened to the deep, melancholic sounds escaping Hazel Clarke's cello. Then Frederick spoke; he was staring in the general direction of the Gryffindor sixth-year girls, which also happened to be where Severus was staring.

"So," he mumbled. "You spend time with the Muggle-born Evans, don't you?"

Severus ignored his derogatory voice, and nodded at the rhetorical question. Everyone knew he spent time with Lily Evans.

"Does she ever talk about the Figg girl?"

Severus said nothing for a few moments. "Why wouldn't she? They're best friends."

"So what does she say?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Does she ever say anything about me?"

"Why would she say anything about you?"

Frederick was silent for a little while. "I've sort of been shagging Figg," he replied.

"She hasn't said anything about that," Severus lied after a few seconds of more forced silence.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I kind of like her, you know," he said after a song had gone by.

Severus wondered why he was suddenly opening up to him. Frederick hardly talked at all. He was extremely quiet, and only spoke when forced.

"Even though she's a blood traitor, she's pretty brilliant. Have you ever seen her fly?"

"Yes," Severus said in a clipped manner. He tore his eyes away from Lily and latched them on to Josabella Figg, whose long legs were accentuated by a short and thin, deep maroon dress with a slit up the center. She was laughing at something Black was saying, and he could almost hear her laugh as Emily joined in. One of Josie's hands was unconsciously laid over her belly. Soon, she would have to hide the swelling with a glamour.

"She asked me to come with her, as a date," Frederick continued. "I said no, though."

"Why?" Severus asked.

"I'm sure you can figure out why," he replied simply.

Severus said nothing in reply. About an hour later, Josie left the Hall, presumably to go outside to the courtyard. Frederick followed her out shortly after.

"Would you like to dance?"

Severus turned and saw Lily standing behind him, staring up at him playfully. He smiled in spite of himself, and grasped the hand she held out to him. It was soft and tiny, a little slice of heaven afforded him. She led him onto the dance floor slowly, and turned to press her body up against his as a song started. Her olive green eyes stared up at him underneath her long, red eyelashes, and his hand on her back felt the tickle of her hair swaying around with their movements.

Severus considered this was the first time they had ever been in such close proximity. Her scent was alluring and comforting. Almond and coconut collided with a lovely vanilla and cinnamon; it clung to her skin, and hours after they danced he could still smell her on his fingertips.

They danced to a twisted sort of tango. He dipped her down, and her neck stretched into infinity; it was long and delicate and perfectly shaped. Then he pulled her back up and pressed her against him again; she looked at him intensely, and wrapped her leg around his hip. Seduction seeped through her pores and out of her eyes.

The dance extended on into infinity, and their minds extended out to occupy all of the space in the Hall, until no one else was there. When his time in her arms did finally end, it was rudely and abruptly. Dumbledore snuffed the candles and illuminated the overhead chandeliers, so that bright light filled the hall. They stared at one another through squinted eyes, trying to adjust to the light. Then Lily leaned up and pecked him chastely on the cheek before bidding him good night and leaving with her friends.

Severus dreamed that night of sheer white curtains, down comforters, and cool sheets. And of almond scented skin and perfect green eyes staring up at him atop a perfect, bow-shaped mouth. Of cherry colored hair spilling over pillows, and of a perfect nude body writhing and shuddering uncontrollably and involuntarily underneath him. Of long, slender limbs wrapped around his waist, and of nails digging into his shoulders in urgency.

A/N: Thanks to my readers and regular reviewers, especially Davek86. Thank you also to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.

Comments are very welcome and are much appreciated.


	11. Interlude, Saloma Yaxley

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Eleven: **Interlude, Saloma

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_Sometimes you scrape and sink so low,_

_I'm shocked at what you're capable of." Gerard Way_

_Saturday, November 1, 1975_

_Early Evening_

Saloma Yaxley was standing in her dormitory, staring out the cold windowpane over the lake. Her lips were pale and cracked from stress. Each morning she woke with a gigantic crater rent down the middle of her bottom lip; if she moved even one muscle in her mouth, her lip would bleed with a sharp and acute pain.

She was to be presenting to the Dark Lord her and Severus' work in less than four hours. She had never been in the Dark Lord's presence before, and her intestines were quivering with fear.

The light was quickly fading with the sinking sun, and she turned back to her bed. The dormitory was empty; Gera, Helena, Soleil and Imogen were with the seventh year boys, studying for the Potions exam on Monday. But Saloma could not study. She was too preoccupied with other things.

Of course, Gera, Oliver and Rodolphus were also going to be getting the Mark with her that night, but the other students in their year did not know that, and they did not need to know that. She told them she wished to rest, that she could not study at the moment, and they had not questioned.

She pushed back the curtains of her canopied bed, and stared at the objects strewn over the top of it. There were several mini, sealed cauldrons full of the potions Severus had brewed; there was her ledger filled with her and Severus' notes; there was a gigantic milky, glass orb attached to a stand of frothy, iron waves. Saloma was getting very nervous regarding her project for the Dark Lord. Not only was it completely unprecedented for an initiate to present research to the Dark Lord, she had no idea if what she was attempting to do would come to fruition.

She fingered her necklace; it was a teardrop crystal, and when light hit it, the pendant glowed against the surface of her skin. Her older brother Greg had given it to her several years ago as a Christmas gift, and she wore it at all times. Her father had charmed it to never come off.

She stared at the objects on her bed, and her lungs began to quiver with each racking breath she drew in; if her experiment failed, not only would her chances of becoming a Death Eater evaporate into humid drops of mist, but her brother and father would be forever disgraced in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

She nervously twined a small clump of hair through her fingers and it didn't even hurt when she tore a couple pieces out. She dropped the long, black strands of hair down to the stone floor, and an invisible dustpan swept the hair into the corner. She didn't know how she was going to stand the next hours of trembling anticipation, so she moved the stuff on her bed to the foot, pulled the curtains shut, curled into a ball, and cast a timed sleeping charm on herself.

When she woke, tangible, blue-gray light was creeping steadily into the room. There was no movement outside her bed, and so she turned over and stared up numbly at the ceiling. The next few hours would contain moments she had looked forward to ever since she was nine, but she did not feel at all the way she thought she would. She had imagined a sensation of triumph and power filling her up, but instead she felt nauseous, and was sure she would be sick before the night was through.

The air was thickening at a rapid pace; she was expected to meet Gera, Oliver and Rodolphus on the front steps at 7:45, so they could Apparate to Malfoy Manor. There they would wait until Lucius and his father, Abraxas Malfoy, received a summons from the Dark Lord. Then Lucius and Abraxas would escort them to wherever the meeting was to be held.

She had never conversed with Abraxas Malfoy past formal introduction and acknowledgement. She had heard before that he was a malevolent force, and was the only one of the Dark Lord's followers who had gained his respect, according to gossip rampant among the different Death Eater families.

She cast a tempus charm, and the time floated in the air for a few seconds before drifting away through the wall. It was 7:19. She sat up slowly, and started to get ready; she opted for plain black clothing, and she swept her hair into a long, sleek ponytail that hung to the small of her back. She assembled everything she needed into a bag and headed out of the room with a thick, short cloak thrown over her shoulders.

There were some quiet students lounging around, and they paid her no mind as she swept out the exit. The dripping halls were drafty and made her fingers feel achy with the cold, and when she finally made it up into the Entrance Hall, it was warm and dry and empty. She pushed through the front doors, and saw no one standing there, so she waited.

The grounds were barren and frigid looking. The slender shells of the trees clung to the ground yards away, and swayed reluctantly in the moving air. The branches collided with one another in protest, and the racket it made carried on the wind and clacked in Saloma's ears.

She stood and waited, while her nerves tingled from anxiety and her feet shuffled because they had nothing better to do. She could start pacing, but that might portray her weakness to the others, and that was the last thing she wanted. She hated to show any sort of weakness.

A little while later she heard the doors open, and voices slipped out into the night.

"As if he would care at all about any of your ideas," Gera was saying.

"You know nothing, Fuscienne," Rodolphus snapped back. "Yaxley has that entire project she is presenting to him."

"Yeah, and she has a father and a brother allied to him. She has a little more status than you already."

"Shut up you two," Saloma snarled. "Let's go."

They set off across the grounds. The sky was an iron gray, foretelling an ice storm that would have all of northern Scotland glazed in glass by the morning. None of them spoke as they trudged towards the front gates. As soon as they pushed through the iron gates, they looked at one another and were simultaneously whisked away to Malfoy Manor.

They landed elegantly in a small, dirt clearing. A house elf immediately popped into the clearing and asked if they needed an escort, and that Master Malfoys were waiting for them.

Saloma gave the trembling house elf a curt yes, and the elf gave them all a Galleon, which served as a port key. They were instantly activated once all four of them had one, and when they appeared in the Malfoy foyer, the house elf was not with them.

Saloma had been in Malfoy Manor several times before for Christmas socials, standard pureblood socials, and a wedding for Lucius and Narcissa several years ago. The foyer had not changed since the 16th-century, when founder Malfoy, who came over from France, built it.

There was a crystal chandelier hanging high above their heads; Saloma was sure it was the same one Lucius had boasted was made entirely of diamonds. The floors were dark, shining wood, and the paneled walls were lined with portraits of the Malfoy family heads; they stared grimly down at Saloma and the rest of them. There were several half-sized staircases, one on both the right and left side of the foyer, and one directly in front of them, which lead to different sections of the house.

"Sirs and Misses must follow Mandy," Saloma heard to her left. A tiny house elf was practically bouncing to lead them away, and so they followed her silently up the staircase to their right and through a long, brightly lit corridor decorated with tapestries and lamps. She led them through a dark colored door and into a small and formal dining area. Lucius and Abraxas were seated across from one another at the shining table, staring at the four of them as they filed into the room. Abraxas immediately stood up, and Lucius slowly followed suit.

"Good evening," Abraxas said solemnly, and they all sat.

Mandy scurried back in and asked everyone if they would like anything to drink. Saloma and Abraxas were the only ones who opted for water. Not long after their drinks were served, a complete eight-course meal began making its rounds. Saloma and her housemates picked nervously at their food, while Lucius ate heartily and Abraxas ate slowly. Saloma knew it was the trademark of bad dinner manners to pick at the food you were served, but she was certain she would choke on anything she tried to swallow down.

"How is your school work coming along?" Abraxas asked them.

"Fine," they each said in turn.

"Your families?"

"Fine," they repeated in unison.

"I would expect a bit more elegant articulation from pureblooded breeding such as your own," he scolded, picking at the seared lamb on his gold-trimmed plate.

"They're all terrified, Father," Lucius said, smirking into his fork.

"The Dark Lord is very gracious," Abraxas remarked.

No one said anything to this. After the lamb was finished, they were served ginger-chicken, then roasted pheasant, followed by petit filet mignon with lobster tail, and finally, coffee with crème brulee. They sat in silence, and Saloma began to feel very anxious again. The feelings had been quelled by her interaction with the food, but now she had nothing to do and so she sat and worried.

It wasn't long before Lucius and Abraxas tensed up, and gripped their forearms rigidly. The four of them looked at one another in determined resignation, and all of them stood up at the same time. Lucius and Abraxas both tilted their necks back, and their eyes rolled into their heads. Their eyelids moved rapidly, as if they were experiencing a seizure, and this lasted for almost a minute before they returned to normal state of mind. They both reached into their plain black robes and pulled out their Death Eater masks, attaching them firmly to their faces. Then Lucius grabbed hold of Saloma and Oliver, who had been on his side of the table, and Abraxas grabbed Gera and Rodolphus. Saloma barely had any time to prepare before they were being squeezed into an air-less tunnel, and then out into dark, quiet, cold night air.

They had landed on a cliff, high above the ocean. Saloma could see far out over the sea; it was an opaque iron color, reflecting the color of the skies perfectly. The wind blew wickedly, and did not care that Saloma was shivering underneath her cloak.

Lucius and Abraxas began walking away to their left, and they followed them quickly, wordlessly. Their boots crunched in the gravelly sand underfoot, and Saloma could hear the echo of the waves crashing violently on the cliff's face hundreds of feet below them. They walked along the edge of the cliff for what seemed like ages, until finally Saloma spotted a huge, bright blue fire around a bend. There were many black figures huddled around it, at least a hundred, and Saloma was shocked at how many Death Eaters there actually were. No one outside the circle knew for sure how many there were, but the general wizarding public estimated there were twenty-five, thirty at the most, in the Dark Lord's ranks. Saloma felt a surge of pride fill the emotionless void in her chest.

They walked quicker now, purposeful and determined. Before Saloma was ready, they were standing with the other Death Eaters, but it was impossible to tell who was who because of the masks and robes. Even the stature of the different witches and wizards was blurred, and Saloma realized this was to prevent them from knowing each other, to prevent treachery. Only the pledges did not own robes and masks yet.

Lucius directed them over to a paddock a little ways away from the fire, where several other maskless wizards and witches stood, waiting nervously and defiantly. He took their wands from them, and then left wordlessly, disappearing in the black cloud of Death Eaters.

Not soon after this, everything hushed. The wind stopped blowing, the waves stopped crashing, the fire stopped cracking and spitting, Saloma's thoughts were soundless in her head. The Dark Lord had arrived.

He spoke, and Saloma couldn't understand a word he said. It was garbled and jumbled, and she looked to Gera and Oliver, who also looked confused, but after a few moments Saloma figured it was because they were not recognized as Death Eaters yet; the Dark Lord must have cast a spell over his voice and his connection with his Death Eaters, so that when he held a big meeting like this, only his Death Eaters could understand what he was saying.

So she studied his features instead.

He was glorious looking, and was everything she had ever imagined him to be. He was tall and broad-shouldered, even taller than she'd pictured. His black cloak fell in long ripples down his back, and settled in a dense pool of coarse fabric at his heels. His arms were thin and pale, and ended in the most elegant set of hands she had ever laid eyes on.

The Death Eaters practically trembled in his presence; even though she was twenty feet away from them, the group noticeably hummed and vibrated with fear. She was in awe of this phenomenon, that one man could instill the same emotion in a numberless group of people. He continued speaking, called people forward every now and then, who also spoke in the same garbled manner as him.

Finally, after what seemed like two hours of speaking and listening, the Dark Lord turned his eyes over to the paddock that held the initiates. Saloma felt her heart gripped in a scalding hot band of iron as his orange-red eyes drilled through her and into the other pledges. He waved his wand once, the rope disappeared from around the paddock, and he motioned for them to come over.

"Welcome," he said smoothly, when they were standing in front of him. "I am pleased beyond words that you are here."

They all got down on their knees and bowed their heads to the ground at his feet. He let them bow for several minutes before waving his wand. Saloma felt a gentle tug, and so she slowly stood up.

"I fear you think I am going to ask you to recite the Death Eater Code of Conduct aloud, or that I am going to require you USDL members to quote paragraphs from your textbook. You're wrong. All I require from you is a drink."

He motioned to a faceless servant behind him, who stepped forward bearing a thin silver platter. On it stood seven heavy glasses, full of a smoky, transparent, gassy-looking liquid.

"I developed this potion when I first started building my army," he began to explain. "It is a compilation of different tests, and if you survive the digestion of this potion, then it is obvious you are strong and loyal enough to serve me. At the time of full digestion of this potion, which is at the end of the next twenty-four hours, the Dark Mark will be branded onto your arm. If you fail, you will be dead, and no witch or wizard will ever be able to determine the cause of death. Please step forward."

Saloma stared at the glasses in tremendous fear. These could be the last hours of her life, could be the last time she was near her family. But she was determined; she knew she could not fail, and that she would not fail. This did not stop her from anticipating the pain and suffering the Dark Lord had alluded to, though. Her nerves were trembling; beads of sweat were racing down her back to pool in the crevice of her buttocks.

She took the glass when he handed it to her, and held it shakily in both hands. It was icy cold to the touch, and bits of the gassy substance inside licked the rim and reached out to graze her fingers.

"Drink."

She drank. And felt nothing, tasted nothing.

"The reaction will not begin until shortly after you return to your homes. After the Dark Mark appears, your ceremonial robes and mask will be delivered via owl. You may step back now."

The circle around the fire widened, and the seven of them filled in the spaces without a sound.

"Yaxley," the Dark Lord called out, after several minutes of silence.

Saloma didn't know whether she should step out or not, but when she heard her brother hiss at her as he passed, she followed him around the fire and back up to the front. Their father was already up there, so they flanked him.

"I understand your daughter has something she wishes to present to me. I am very interested to receive what it is she has."

"My Lord, Saloma has been working on this for many months now."

"I don't care how long she has been working on it," he said simply. "Step aside."

Saloma's father moved aside, and the Dark Lord motioned for her to come forward.

_Aren't you a beautiful, virginal little thing_, she heard in her head, and she snapped her eyes up to look him boldly in the face; he quirked a hair-less eyebrow at her. _Don't ever look me directly in the eyes unless I tell you to_. She quickly dropped to the ground in the most submissive bow she could think of. Her forehead was pressed into the gravel and rocks, and her neck was bared to his mercy.

"Get off the ground," he spat. "Tell me what it is you have been doing, or I will dismiss you without another care."

"My Lord," she choked as she quickly stood up. "I have st-started a series of potions and treatments, which are intended to jump-start your immortal intentions."

"I already have a means of immortality, and it has worked very well so far. And stop stuttering."

"Yes," Saloma said. "But it is always beneficial to have an ulterior method, in case your plans don't go accordingly."

"Nothing is going to go wrong with my plans, but I will humor you."

"My Lord, it is experimental and very innovative. I did research in potions books that were millennia old, and was able to find steps a wizard had created to achieve immortality. Something went terribly wrong, however, when he began the experiment, and no one has done it ever since, because of the consequences."

"Continue."

"I worked with another student and together, we made some serious changes to the series of potions."

"Who is this student?"

"Severus Snape, my Lord."

"He did most of the brewing?"

"Yes, my Lord. I did the research and collected the first items you would need for the experiment."

"You can leave that bag here, and step back into the circle. All three of you are dismissed."

She set the bag down at his feet, and scurried back into her spot.

Shortly after that, he ended the meeting.

She found Gera and the other two as the other wizards Apparated away. She had no idea where her father and brother where, but she assumed they had already left to go back home. They all looked at one another, nodded and reappeared outside of the Hogwarts gates.

"Wow," Rodolphus said.

"Do you feel sick yet?" Gera asked nervously. They hurried through the gates and back up to the castle.

"Not yet," Saloma said. "But it's coming."

"I can feel it churning in my stomach already," Rodolphus said.

"I had no idea that is what we were going to have to do," Saloma remarked. "I thought he was going to just say a spell or two and the mark would appear."

"Me too," Rodolphus said. "I hope this isn't as bad as he made it sound."

"It will be worse," Gera assured them all. Oliver looked green.

The rain had not yet begun to fall, but the clouds hovered low over the castle, and mingled with the tallest spires. They walked as quickly as possible up to the castle and snuck in with Slytherin stealth. Filch was probably up in the higher parts of the castle, trying to catch some immature Gryffindors. They hurried down the stairs and into the dungeons. Seven minutes later, Oliver muttered the password at the door, and they were in the common room.

"Good night," they all said, and divided up between the gendered dorms.

Saloma and Gera exchanged no words as they stripped down to their underclothes and slid between the cool cotton sheets on their beds. The curtains were yanked shut, and Saloma was in her own world.

She thought back to when she had been less than an arms-length away from the Dark Lord. He had stared down at her, with eyes the size of Galleons, the color of melting rubies. She ached for his fingers to graze her skin, anticipated the aching shiver that would run through her body when he touched her. When she had caught his gaze for those few glorious seconds, he had filled her brain with images of the power and domination he wished to have over her, the submission he wished for her to practice for him. Now those images burned into her eyelids, and overcame the pain creeping outwards from her stomach.

She withstood the pain with fantastical images. She was his slave, the one who served him best, his pet. And she knew he ached for a woman to fulfill just those needs. He had those faceless servants he had conjured up from the depths, but what did they do for him? Fetch his potions and robes?

No, she would serve him in every single way he needed. And she hungered to be able to do this.

Finally, the pain became too much to bear, and she succumbed to it. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, all she could do was feel. The pain consumed her, burned her, raped her body, tore it to shreds and then sewed it back together again.

The next night, after fevers, and retching spells, and noiseless deliriums, the four of them compared the perfect Dark Marks that had been etched into their skin with an invisible ink pen. Compared to the pain they had experienced the last twenty-four hours, the tattoo was nothing.

And Saloma was prepared for anything, prepared to serve the Dark Lord in any way he would require of her, anything to please him.

A/N: Comments very welcome.

He

He


	12. Bonding's Climax

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter 12: **Bonding's Climax

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Saturday, December 13, 1975_

_Early Afternoon_

"Time out! Time out!" I called, waving my arms above my head.

I turned around for just one second and was hit squarely in the face with a huge, icy, wet snowball; it was plastered to my face, and slid down to soak into my already dripping scarf.

"Hey, I called time out, Potter!" He waved at me playfully from behind the mound of snow he called a fort, and then ducked quickly behind it. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Emily, Josie, Mary and Hazel, who were huddled behind our own fort.

"What are we going to do, Lily?" Josie asked. "They're killing us."

This was very true; all five of us were wet and frozen, and Mary's teeth were chattering. I quickly cast a temporary warming charm on all of us, and looked down at them determinedly, my hands on my hips.

"We cannot let Potter and the rest of them beat us! How dare you all lose spirit?"

"Honestly, Lily, I say we call it quits," Emily said matter-of-factly. She was already reaching for one of the white flags Black had conjured up at the beginning of the Annual Gryffindor Snowball Fight, categorized by year, always girls against boys. I twitched the flag away from Emily's reach with a nudge of my wand, and looked at them all indignantly.

"I don't even know why you care about this Lily," Emily continued. "It is very uncharacteristic of you, to be so competitive. Why do you care whether or not we win a silly snowball fight? We've never won before, so why should we even begin to start trying now?"

"So that Potter and Black don't lord it over us for the next three months, that's why!" I responded vehemently.

"They have every other year," Mary said. "What's the big deal?"

"You guys, we had a plan, and it would have worked perfectly-"

"Until Black hit me four times in just as many seconds with those rock hard snowballs," Emily finished. "I bet my thighs already have bruises on them, and will have for the next week."

"I don't understand why he just doesn't ask you out," Mary said off-handedly. "It's obvious he fancies you."

"Yuck," Emily said, scrunching up her face. "I'm sweet on someone else, anyways."

"You are?" Josie demanded. "Who, who?"

"Well, he isn't a Gryffindor," Emily said, a sly smirk twisting up her mouth.

"Hello! Focus, please!" I said, wind-milling my arms around.

"Lily, the snowball fight is over," Josie said with finality. She picked the flag and herself up off the ground, and waved it over the fort wall before I could do or say anything else.

A loud roar came up from the fort fifty feet across the field. I glared over at Potter, who was smiling widely and doing a royally irritating victory dance that involved a nearby tree. I punched the top part of the fort in anger, and it crumbled down onto my boots.

Emily and Josie were already walking back up to the castle, seemingly deep in conversation. Mary and Hazel both gave me small smiles and started to walk up to the castle as well. I turned around, and Potter was right behind me, a gloved hand extended towards me.

"Captains shake?" he asked.

I glared at him. "Get the hell away from me, Potter."

"Come on Evans, don't be a sore loser," he said, punching my upper arm lightly.

I pushed him back into the snow, but he caught a sleeve of my jacket, and so I went down with him. My braids slapped his face, and I landed on top of him quite against all I had intended. I had even tried to twist away from him, and so our limbs and arms were all tangled up and our faces were inches away from each other.

This was the first time I had ever been so close to Potter, and time seemed to freeze. His blacker than black hair was plastered to his forehead, his glasses were fogged up, his cheeks were flushed and rashy looking, his lips were chapped. I thought for a split-second he was gorgeous, and then time unfroze, and that split-second was lost in the collection of time-frozen thoughts, the thoughts that you forget you ever had, the thoughts that are forfeited to the tenebrous void that is your sub-conscious.

He started to laugh, and locked his arms around my back, rendering it virtually impossible for me to get up. I glared down at him, and tried to dislodge my legs from the knot that had formed. He shook his head in mute argument and only squeezed his arms around me tighter.

"You have some nice, lush little love handles," he said, squeezing my hips gently. There was laughter in his eyes

"In your dreams, Potter," I snarled. "Now let me go, for Merlin's sake." I started wriggling incessantly, and my knee hovered dangerously near his groin area.

"Oh fine, Evans," he said, and pushed me off of him. I rolled over onto the densely packed snow, exhaling the air I had held in my chest. "You're an absolute bore, you know that right?"

"I've been told," I replied blandly. I listened to his boots crunch away into the distance, and I continued lying there, staring up at the clear and azure blue sky of December.

It _was_ December, and the Christmas season had invariably started. The air smelt like holly and pine and cinnamon, and the halls were full of caroling armor and bells and whizzing fairies. And of course, the obligatory mistletoe that you could fall prey to if you weren't careful.

There were five days of term left, and I had just as many exams or papers due. But I was already in another state of mind; Christmas was my favorite holiday. I loved the warmth and the food and the gift giving, and couldn't wait to make it home. Petunia usually found some way to ruin it in one way or another, but no matter what happened, I felt as if I would always love the holiday.

I pushed myself up out of the snow, and brushed the residual water off my jacket. I wrung out my braids and scarf, and began walking up to the castle.

The house elves had stocked the common room: it was full of cookies and pastries and hot chocolate and wassail. The fires were always roaring and extra afghans, quilts and pillows had been added to the baskets by the chairs and sofas. I peeled off my dripping outer clothes, grabbed a cookie and threw myself in an armchair near where Emily and Josie had set up their homework.

"Has she revealed the lucky candidate for her love yet?" I asked Josie, nibbling on the outer edges of the sugar cookie.

"Yes," she replied eagerly. "Morgan Kent."

"From Ravenclaw?" I asked Emily.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled, immersed in her Charms essay.

"Yeah, that tall black boy. Have you ever looked at his face?" Josie asked me.

"Not closely, anyway," I answered, chewing the rest of my cookie and reaching for my bag.

"He has eyes like a kneazle's," she continued. "Two-toned like that, you know? Greenish-gold, simply fantastic."

"He's attractive," I agreed.

"And he spent most of his childhood in Kenya, so he has that gorgeous accent to his voice, you know?"

"I didn't know he grew up in Kenya," I replied.

"Yeah, apparently he has family there or something," Josie said chattily.

I opened up my potions text to one of the tabs I had stuck on the page. It was a potion on healing translucent skin syndrome, caused by the misapplication of a skin-tone altering spell. It was one of the potions I was including in my sole research project; the one I was doing jointly with Severus was unrelated.

I finished one of the essays I needed to write for it before the end of the year, and then I started working on my Charms assignment, which required research. I pushed it aside for the evening, not caring to do anymore work. I didn't wish to leave the common room for the rest of the night, and working on that essay would require a trip to the library.

I went up to the dorm, found some knit slippers and sweats, and the book I was reading on American Muggle history. On my way back to the armchair I had occupied, I grabbed a particularly warm-looking afghan, and a plate full of cookies. When I had snuggled down into the sofa with the blanket tucked all around me and my book on my lap, I summoned a crock pot full of wassail over to the coffee table in front of us all, and three over-sized mugs were quickly filled with the steaming, aromatic liquid. Josie and Emily both smiled widely at me as I sent their drinks over to them, and I settled in for a cozy evening spent reading and bonding with my two closest friends.

_Friday, December 19, 2008_

_Evening _

"See you after your walk, Lily," Josie teased me. Dinner had just ended and I was walking away from Josie and Emily to meet Severus outside. I was bundled up tightly against the winter weather, but knew even then it would be freezing. Right as I was finishing my last bits of dinner, small flakes of snow had begun falling from the ceiling.

Severus was sitting on the top steps, just barely protected from the snow by the overhang. He heard my footfalls behind him and stood up quickly, turning his head around to smile slightly at me.

"Hello, Severus," I said breathily. "Ready?"

He nodded and we set out wordlessly.

The grounds were beautiful. The dusky, purplish-gray light of the sky was filtering down with the falling snow, and the trees were being re-blanketed for perhaps the seventh time already that season. The air smelt like winter: wood smoke and cold and cut wood. I looked back as we drew nearer the lake, and the castle looked like a gothic dream.

"Did you finish all of your papers?" Severus asked me.

"Of course, Sev," I replied. "Did you?"

"Of course," he said, looking down at me with soft eyes. My stomach fluttered a teeny bit. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Absolutely," I gushed. "I have pretty much all of my shopping done, what about you?"

He shrugged, showcasing his indifference for the holiday. "I didn't need to do much shopping," he said.

We walked some more in silence. Bits and pieces of the lakes surface had congealed over in thin sheets of ice, resembling the layer of fat clogging the top of a tureen of gravy sat still too long. The air was completely still, save for the snow floating down at an even, steady pace, and I was suddenly and drastically aware of some sort of charge hovering between Severus and I. My arms were folded across my chest, and his hung at his sides, but I ached to reach out and touch him, a feeling that had never consumed me in quite this way before.

I didn't look over at him, just kept walking along our routine path around the lake. We said nothing for the rest of the walk, and I yearned to know what he was thinking. When we got back into the entrance hall, we shook our hair out and stomped our boots on the gigantic entrance mat that Filch strove to keep dry and clean. Then we headed up to Gryffindor tower in comfortable silence.

It was on the fourth floor, in a secluded portion of the hallway, underneath some fancy stone archway, that it happened. And I should have been able to divert it, because I had memorized every place in the castle that the dreaded herb hung.

As soon as we passed underneath it, my body began to tingle. I had never been caught underneath mistletoe before, and I had actually never kissed anyone before either, if you care to remember back to the very first chapter. But this was all about to end.

I turned my body to face Severus, as it was very clear we weren't going anywhere. The mistletoe only allowed you to get closer to the person you were under it with, not further away. He looked nervous, and reluctant to kiss me.

"You don't want to kiss me, Sev?"

"No, no," he protested, perhaps just a little bit too quickly. And it was that moment I saw through his façade, noted the growing crack in his steely countenance. _There_ were the soft eyes, soft eyes I had never seen anyone give me before. They were black, yes they were coal tunnels of black color, but the warmest black color I had ever seen, like the warm exterior of an iron cauldron over a fire. Like an onyx stone, softened by the ocean and warmed by the sun.

One of his hands tentatively reached up to tuck a curl of red hair back behind my ear, and his fingers lingered there, grazing the curve of my neck that met my shoulder, just barely touching the skin. I blinked a couple of times, and bit my lip. He would not meet my eyes. Instead his gaze followed his fingers, which traced the curve of my neck, dipped into my fluffy clavicle, and rolled up underneath my chin to barely skim over my lips. I pursed them a little bit without thinking, and he pressed his fingers into my mouth more fervently. Then he looked into my eyes, mumbled something I couldn't quite discern; his eyes looked back down at my lips. I folded my mouth inward and moistened my lips, anticipating a feeling I couldn't put my finger on.

"Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to stand under here for the rest of the night?" I whispered, and then I wasn't too sure why I had whispered, as we were alone in the hall. After we had kissed, I would wonder if it had even happened, since there were no eyewitnesses.

But we did kiss. He finally closed the gap between us, and it was a quiet kiss. He didn't grasp my arms and pull me closer to him and he didn't bite my lips in fervent passion. He gently pressed his body against mine, and tilted my face up to his, and wrapped his arms around my body and kissed me. Plainly and simply. The way his lips would kiss the rim of a glass he was drinking out of.

The tingling sensation faded away, and we both stepped out from underneath the archway. He cleared his throat, and I began walking towards a staircase that was at the end of the hall. I didn't know what to make of what had just happened, and I didn't want to think about it at the moment anyway. He quickly caught up with me.

"Are any of your friends taking the train home tomorrow?" I asked him conversationally.

"Pretty much everyone in my year is going home," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, it's just me and Josie this year," I said. "And I'm sure Potter and the rest of them are going home too, but we won't be in the same compartment as them. I can hardly tolerate Potter's presence."

"You're still Flooing to my house after the train ride tomorrow, right?"

Severus and I had arranged for me to Floo to his house from the Leaky Cauldron when we got to London the following evening. It would save my mother a lot of trouble, and I found myself wondering why we had never thought to do this before now.

"Yes, of course."

Severus didn't say anything in return, so we just kept walking. He was being even more taciturn than normal, which was an effect I attributed to the unexpected and arbitrary lip locking that had been forced upon us.

The Fat Lady and Violet were sharing a rum cake and completely ignored Severus and I as we stood in front of the portrait hole. I had to yell several times to rouse the Fat Lady out of her rum-induced stupor.

"Apologies, m'dear," she said insincerely. Her usually pink lips were glazed over with the sugary icing from the cake. Violet stared at us both indignantly.

I spoke the password, and the Fat Lady swung open with a "hmpf."

"Goodnight, Sev," I said quietly, turning to him and taking his two hands in mine. I was safe from the Gryffindor's scrutiny, for the hall from the portrait hole curved around a bend before you came upon the common room.

"Good night," he replied, and before I could turn away, he bent down and kissed me sweetly on the cheek. I felt my face get warm, and smiled shyly at his retreating form as he walked back down the hallway.

"Are you going in or not?" the Fat Lady's muffled voice demanded, and I hurriedly scampered inside.

That night I couldn't _not_ think about the kiss; it kept playing in my head on a spinning reel, over and over again. My feelings for Severus were either coming to light or spontaneously developing right then and there, but all of a sudden I was picturing myself touching him on a more regular basis, relishing the time I spent with him in a more romantic fashion.

It was clear from the way he handled the mistletoe situation that all Josie and Emily had ever said about him being sweet on me was true, but did I reciprocate those feelings?

I always had this problem; I had no idea who I was, didn't know what I wanted, never knew what was best for me. And I could not just attribute my blossoming feelings for him to repressed emotions in the past: everyone knows it is easier to attract yourself to someone when you find out their romantic feelings.

So I spent most of the night thinking about it, and by the morning of a mostly sleepless night, I still did not know what to think or feel.

_Saturday, December 20, 1975_

_Midday _

"I wish the lady with the cart would get here soon," Josie said restlessly.

We were racing through Scotland, and had an entire compartment to ourselves. I had gone to the liberty of taking out my typewriter and had papers everywhere, and Josie was rifling through VampaGIRL! We had been on the train for four hours now, and probably had just as many to go. We even had a relatively large breakfast and Josie was already hungry and on tenterhooks, just like a child.

"Tell me about the kiss again, Lils," Josie said excitedly. "I cannot believe you kissed Severus Snape, tell me what it was like again."

I rolled my eyes and looked up from what I was working on. I had already told her about the kiss seven times, and it was getting really old. I could barely relish it in my own memories!

"Josie, it was just a regular kiss."

"I can't believe there was no tongue! The boy has been waiting for this opportunity for ages."

"Please Josie, you know nothing about what he has and has not been waiting for," I replied.

She snorted. "Oh yes, I do. You're so oblivious to everything, Lils," she said simply.

I continued typing with no comment, and the cart lady came a little while later. Josie bought a bunch of sweets for both of us to share.

"So are you going to date him?"

"For Merlin's sake Josie, let it alone already."

"I would love to see you date Severus Snape," she continued. "That would represent the epitome of inter-house unity. Imagine what everyone would say?"

"About a baby Death Eater dating a Muggleborn? It would be unprecedented. The school paper would be clamoring to do an article on it, and I would be in danger from Lord Voldemort. If I was even considering dating Severus, which I am _not_, it would be done privately, and hardly anyone would know."

"That's boring, playing too safe, Lils."

"Josie, you could _never_ play it too safe during times like these. Didn't you read the Prophet this morning?"

"Yes," she replied sadly. "My family was very close to the Lerwicks."

There had been an attack on a family just the evening before, a pureblooded family at that, and they all had been killed, including the two younger children. These were the Lerwicks.

"All for being blood-traitors," Josie continued, embittered sarcasm clearly evident in her voice.

I looked out the window in reverence, abandoning my typewriter for the time being. The scenery whipped past the window, grays and browns and greens all blended together to create a poorly done watercolor painting. It was cold though. The parts of the sky that I could see were white gray, threatening ice and snow and white Christmases.

"I'm planning on meeting Frederick a couple of times during the holidays," Josie said, changing the topic just a little bit.

"Where?"

"Well, his father's land is only a couple of counties away from the manor," she continued. "I think we might meet up a couple of times at night. Has Severus said anything about him lately, about him talking about me?"

"Umm," I pondered. "Not that I know of."

"Oh," she said.

"Wait, I think he did mention Frederick talking about you at the Halloween party," I suddenly remembered.

"What did he say?"

"Honestly, I don't remember Josie," I said apologetically.

"I've decided to tell him about the baby on Christmas day," she said resolutely. "That is the one day I know for sure we are definitely meeting up together, late at night, I think, at some pub near my house."

"Oh really? Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"He has to know, and he has the_ right_ to know," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in defense.

"I know he has the _right_ to know, but can you really trust the way he will behave?"

"Even though he's never said it, I truly believe that he loves me," she replied. "And so he will also love this baby," and she rubbed her thin stomach. "I'll be showing very soon, and if I tell him, I can tell my parents, and I won't even have to worry about the glamour. I think this is the best way, the smartest way."

"Josie, he will be ostracized from his entire family," I said. "I can't believe you are being this selfish."

"I'm not being selfish, Lily," Josie replied calmly. "I know he could completely dismiss me. But the most mature thing to do would be to tell him about everything that has happened."

"I don't think it would be the _wisest_ thing to do," I countered.

"Well Lily, you and I are completely different people," she said, shrugging her shoulders in acceptance of this fact.

I turned back to my typewriter, not really wishing to argue with her anymore about the matter. For the rest of the trip we talked amiably about other things; she read her magazines, and I continued writing and by evening we were both exhausted from the traveling and ready to be home.

The platform was much more empty than usual, reflecting the sparse number of students going home for the holidays. I kissed Josie goodbye on the cheek right outside the platform, wished her a happy Christmas, and then turned to find Severus.

If I had known that would be the last time I would ever see Josabella Figg, I would have taken a little more care in my goodbyes, but I could have no idea, so I didn't.

A/N: Comments, as always, welcome. Thanks to MRSSPICY for her work.


	13. Interlude, Josabella Figg

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirteen: **Interlude, Josie

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Alas, my love, you do me wrong, _

_To cast me off discourteously,_

_For I have loved you well and long,_

_Delighting in your company._

_-Greensleeves_

(poss. Henry VIII of England, 1500s)

_Tuesday, July 16, 1968_

_Afternoon_

Once, when I was nine, my mother had collected my younger sister Arabella and I into our nursery and given us sweetened ice chocolate drinks. We sat at the big window, the one with the thick, pristine white curtains that I liked to wrap myself up in and pretend I was some distant queen. It had been high summer, but the glass was cool to the touch, and I remember because more times than I could count would I lean my forehead against the panes and relish the crisp, invigorating feeling that bestowed itself upon my sweating brow.

My mother had been acting strangely. She sat on the window seat, and leaned the side of her head against it, gazing over the grounds. She urged us to sit at her feet and finish our drinks. We rarely ever indulged in something such as iced chocolate, and so the back of my mind was beginning to tick, was starting to wonder why her forehead was wrinkled with such deep rivulets of skin and shadow. When she turned to look down at the two of us her eyes, usually a lovely navy blue color, had darkened to deep Prussian, and I could almost see 'Bella and my faces reflected in their glassy surfaces.

She began to tell us a tale of terror, and I was mildly horrified. Arabella, only six at the time, was still nursing her drink in one small hand but her eyes were wide pools of curiosity. I knew she couldn't possibly understand too much of what my mother was telling us (I barely understood it, and my lessons in the backgrounds of Magical Warfare had been completed that past spring), but Arabella was only six.

She talked of an evil man, intent on ridding our kingdom of all those with less than perfect blood. She had laughed petulantly at this point, and had muttered about how ridiculous it all was, our blood wasn't even perfect, and we had been what wizarding kind terms 'pure' for the last ten generations.

She said my father and her would never bow to this being, this creature of death, and that Arabella and I would do no such thing either. She went on to say how our family would be prime targets for foul play because of Arabella's condition, and because our father and her had always been wholly supportive of the integration and acceptance of Muggleborns and Squibs.

I didn't understand at this point, but she said that didn't matter, I needn't understand everything. She told us both that she was scared, that this man was sadistic. He not only kills, she said. She refused to elaborate, and while I was unabashedly curious, I did not press her for further information; a six-year old doesn't need to hear terrible stories of torture.

"Look at me, Josabella, Arabella," she said, moving to kneel in front of us. She took one of our hands in each of hers. "You need to tell me yes, that's all. That's all that it will take."

"What, Mummy?" I had asked her, confusion and innocence embedded in my small child's voice.

She chewed her bottom lip roughly for a few moments, so much so that her teeth came away bloodied. "You mustn't ever mention anything to your father, to anyone. If you say yes, you won't be able to so much as think of it in anyone's presence; I have taken care of all of that. He will never know, they will never know." She was almost persuading herself more than the two of us now.

Now, my mother and my father shared a deep love, one that in most married couples fades away. They had grown up together, had grown in love rather than fallen in it. She would never betray my father, would never betray his love and confidence in her. And yet, her love for us was boundless, a different type from the romantic love she felt for our father. She was determined in preserving our innocence, and yet in that moment, unknowingly of course, she had all but torn it away.

"It's all very simple, really," she continued. "If it were ever to come to such extreme times, if your lives were ever in danger, if he ever came here, I would take care of you. You need never suffer at the hands of him, need never feel those things that were only meant for adults. And no matter how old you get, you will always be to me as you are now. Simply say yes, and it will be done."

I didn't even have to think; I loved my mother, and she loved me. I would trust her with a million of my lives, and so there was no question. Even though I didn't understand what she was saying, even though I was nine years old and oblivious to pain and loss, it didn't matter.

"Yes," I had whispered. "Yes."

And Arabella, who did everything I did because I was her older sister, because she wanted to be like me, chanted yes as well.

And my mother had left us to play.

Before that moment, I had felt the way children **should** feel: carefree, light, gay. Of course I had been nearing the age in which playing outdoors did little to entertain my fancies, but I was enthusiastic about it solely for 'Bella's sake. We explored the grounds of the Figg estate, played in our nursery, snuck up on our father when he was in his office doing fatherly, work-related things that we could know nothing of.

For as long as I can remember we had known of 'Bella's condition, and yet she had always been a child, had never become malevolent or dark at heart. Of course, perhaps she just never really understood it, but she handled it with beauty of spirit, a grace and finesse I myself could never have adopted.

My father had bought me my first ever racing broom the year I turned eight, and 'Bella looked forward to the moments she could watch me fly around the small zone our mother had partitioned off in an area of the grounds. I even took her up in the air a few times, always closely supervised by our parents, of course. She never once was bitter about her life; she had accepted it because even though she was forced to grow up secluded from us in such a strict way, she knew always that as long as she had our love, she could in turn love herself.

The few months directly following what in my mind was simply termed "The Talk," the ideas my mother had handed me fermented and took root in my mind. I didn't understand them and yet I did. A small part of my soul, the deepest part that no one around me could ever suspect, had coalesced into a churning knot of confusion and resentment, tinged red with love and admiration. I resented my mother for what she had done that day. 'Bella hadn't been changed by those few moments my mother held our counsel in the nursery, but I had been. The thick, plush rug of my childhood had been ripped out from underneath me, and I had fallen bare-bottomed on the cold stone floor. I hadn't even had time to put on trousers.

I still played with 'Bella, still flew around the grounds, still yearned to go away to Hogwarts and make friends, but after my daily lessons with a governess, when I was allowed four or five hours of independent study time, my mind wandered. My lessons were always held in the library, where vast amounts of knowledge lay at my fingers. Every once in a while, when I was sure I wouldn't be bothered for several hours, I would abandon my books and delve into the deepest parts of the library, searching for answers to my questions.

I never found them.

_Christmas Eve, 1975 _

_Evening_

Figg Fortress was alight with beauty. Soft flakes of snow sifted down from the slate-grey sky, and tall, fat pine trees adorned the grounds, bright white lights flitting around their branches. The windows of the mansion glowed a warm, loving amber.

Inside the mansion, in the warmest room of the entire house, sat the Figgs, all but one. A huge Fraser fir stood in one corner of the room, candles and tinsel and beautiful family ornaments sparkling on the boughs. Piles of presents sat underneath, impeccably wrapped and bowed. The ceiling was iced with dull yellow lights, swarming around the delicate crystal-drop chandelier like bees around a hive and the room smelt of fudge and peanut butter cookies and warm milk. 'Carol of the Bells' wafted from the wireless.

Arabella was not due back for another hour; she was out in the village caroling with the Muggle friends she had made over the years since Josie had gone away to Hogwarts.

Josie sat, thinking of what she was going to say to Frederick when she snuck out to see him later. She knew he would probably not respond to the information with excitement at first. His family's values were certainly not moral, but he was young and quiet and sweet to her. She recalled a time they had spent together in a loft off a fifth-floor balcony.

_It was a small little nook, fashioned entirely out of wood, resembling the loft of a log cabin in the backwoods. There were candles and round, amber lamps with pretty shades. There was a good-sized suede coach with enough cushion space for two people to lie on their backs comfortably, and pillows and blankets and huge cushions were shoved in the corners. The windows were arched and set with stained glass, and the warmth from the small stove in one corner bit the cold seeping in from the glass._

_Josie and Frederick were bundled together on the couch, her naked back pressed up against his naked chest. A quilt covered their legs, and their necks and chests were sweaty and flushed. His arms braceleted her long neck, and his nose breathed lightly in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. _

_They didn't say anything: they didn't have to. Josie didn't know how it had happened, but one night in Astronomy, when the stars were particularly bright and there was a meteor shower forecasted, they had looked up from their calculations at the same time and locked eyes. Her navy blues had shone white with stars, and his jaw had clenched in an effort to hide the snap of the puzzle piece. They had been covertly seeing each other a couple times a week ever since. _

_Frederick never once told her any of his feelings for her. She assumed how he felt by the way he behaved, the way he kissed her forehead, or idly coiled a tight ringlet of her hair through a finger. She just knew the energy radiating between their bodies was spawned from love. _

_The last time they had met was late at night, as usual. She had taught him how to navigate her father's rigged grounds, and they had met in an unused guesthouse several acres away from the manor; it was hidden in a small valley, and so even from the tallest point in the manor, no lights could be seen ablaze in the guesthouse._

_She had almost told him that night; his eyes had been particularly unguarded. She knew now, for some odd reason, that she should have. _

"Josie, dear," she heard her mother say. "Why don't you play the piano for us?"

"Mum, I'm awful at the piano," Josie complained. She really was.

"No you aren't," her mother replied, smiling slyly. Her mother had long, straight hair the color of milk chocolate. Josie got her curls from her father, who wore his hair closely cropped to his head, but that didn't stop the curls from coiling into laurel wreaths. Her hair was the same color as her mothers.

"I won't play," Josie said stolidly. "When is 'Bella coming back?"

"Around nine, I think she said," her mother replied.

Her father, who had been sitting on a couch in the corner reading, stood up and wandered over to the piano. He had taught both her and Arabella to play the piano, but Arabella was worlds better than Josie would ever be. He sat down, turned back to smile at her mother, and then started to play a series of Christmas songs.

The house-elves replenished the eggnog and the cookies, the wassail and the fudge, and Josie was feeling plump and content by nine. She was also getting anxious to go to bed, but couldn't retire until 'Bella returned. They spent every Christmas Eve in the Christmas suite, which was located just off the room that held the tree. It was lavish and fantastic, one of the most luxurious rooms in the mansion. Only her parents' master suite was more splendid than the Christmas suite. And there they would sleep, while Father Christmas filled the outer room with presents. Of course, Josie no longer believed in Father Christmas, but it was still fun to pretend.

It was now twenty after nine, and 'Bella still had not come home.

"Maybe she's having pudding at Gracie's house," her mother offered. Gracie was one of her Muggle friends.

"Well I wish she would get back, already," Josie huffed.

"Patience, love," her mother said, and Josie just got more irritated. She bit her nails, and was about to get up and start pacing when her father abruptly stopped playing the piano. His back stiffened.

"Dad?"

Her mother stood up, wringing her hands concernedly.

"Something's happening," my dad said. He stood up as well, slinking his hand underneath his robes to grab his wand.

"What is it, Byron?" Tension shook Josie's mother's voice.

"The wards are down," he said. He waved his wand around and said, "Reddo moenia et saxeus perspicuus," and the walls all around them faded to translucency. Josie, who had grown up around magic all her life, was still amazed at times by the things it could do. The walls and furniture beyond the room they were in had not disappeared entirely; you could still see layers of stone and wall, and the individual rooms and bits of furniture separating them from the outside were clearly defined by minuscule balls of gas and color. But Josie could see beyond that. Could see a relatively small group of people coming up the lawn towards them, engulfed in a lime green glow.

"You cannot escape, Figg," a disembodied voice echoed through the fortress. And Josie began to shake with fear, a fear so acute and poignant that it rose as bile in her throat, grew as beads of sweat on her upper lip and forehead, trembled down her spine so that her hands shook violently of their own accord, and she dropped the mug of wassail she had been holding. It crashed beneath her, but the sound echoed in another dimension, another time, so that she might not have dropped it at all.

"Byron," her mother choked. She was shaking nearly as much as Josie was.

"Lucy," her father said, rushing to her side. "You have to be strong, we talked about this already." He took her arms in his hands and shook her gently. She wrenched free from him, and smoothed back her hair from her sweating, tear-streaked face.

"Josie baby, come here," her mother said, reaching her hands out towards Josie, who tripped and nearly fell as she stumbled into her mother's arms. "You have to be strong," her mother whispered into her ear, her hot breath cascading over Josie's face.

Josie said nothing. Her father began a long string of enchantments, but she knew it was done in vain. Lord Voldemort countered every single spell cast, and before she knew it, seven men were standing in a V in front of them, Voldemort at its tip. He was not as tall as Josie had imagined. He stared down at them neutrally, his wand twirling in his left hand. There was Malcolm Wilkes, Amycus Carrow, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Griffin Lestrange, and Hector Crabbe, all staring at them mercilessly.

"Augustus?" Josie's father choked, stunned. Augustus worked in the Department of Mysteries, and was supposedly loyal to the Ministry. The Figgs, however, were now privy to his treachery.

"Augustus has been loyal to me for several years now," Voldemort said silkily. "But you won't be reporting that to anyone. I am here for several different reasons, exacerbated this evening by some information Malcolm Wilkes relayed to me. You and your troupe in the Ministry have caused me enough trouble, and your terror over my Death Eaters and I ends tonight. Wilkes, would you care to address the Figgs?"

"Thank you, my Lord," he said, his voice thick with disgust for the Figgs. He stepped forward and surveyed Josie's family. "I found out some information tonight from my son, Frederick, some information that disgusts me. He told me for the last three months or so, he has had romantic relations with the Figg girl."

"Josabella Figg, is this true?" her father demanded of her.

"Yes, father," Josie replied, hanging her head in pure misery. An anchor that would be used to weigh down a luxury ocean-liner had fallen into her stomach.

"How dare you insult this family's honor," her father said.

"Father, it was entirely mutual!" Josie argued, so sure of herself.

"Shut up, the both of you," Voldemort said suddenly. "I don't care about any of this minutiae. It is a pure disgrace for a Death Eater's son to fraternize with a blood traitor. And that is all you are, all of you. Frederick certainly will be punished; I plan to take care of this personally."

"No, don't," Josie cried.

"Why do you care, you little slag? _He _betrayed _you_," Wilkes said.

"Don't you dare talk to my daughter like that," Byron said.

"Crucio," Voldemort said idly, followed by "Silencio." Her father fell to the ground, his silent screams filling the air with tension.

"Please stop!" Josie cried, jumping out of her mother's lax arms. "Please stop all of this! I'll do whatever you want."

"What in Merlin's name makes you think I want anything from you?" Voldemort asked her matter-of-factly.

"Just please stop that," she said, pointing to her father, tears coursing down her face.

Voldemort waited several more minutes and then released the spell. Josie's weeping mother rushed to her husband's side and enveloped him in her arms.

"Frederick was the one who told me how to get here tonight," Voldemort continued. "I believe he received that information from you, my dear. Very, very good defenses and wards, I must say. Compliments to Master Figg."

"You're lying," Josie yelled. "Frederick would never tell you anything."

"Oh, but he did." And Voldemort locked eyes with Josie, and suddenly Josie's head was full of horrifying images. Frederick, telling Malcolm Wilkes all about his liaison with Josie. Frederick, voluntarily telling Voldemort how to dodge the countless number of spells guarding Figg Fortress. Frederick, relishing every moment of his betrayal. The anchor dragged her into the sand.

"Now," Voldemort continued, looking away from her. He began pacing around a little bit. "Seeing as I have several other lucky families to visit before the night is over, we will end this quickly, and you will thank me for your luck." Suddenly, he stopped moving. "Don't the Figgs have two children?" he asked Wilkes.

"Yes, they also have a squib girl," Wilkes replied.

"Ah, yes. Pity you didn't dispose of her when she was younger. Where is she?"

"You will never find her, you awful, disgusting monster," Josie's mother spat out. She had stood up to guard my father's quivering body.

"No matter, she is no threat to me. She's a worthless squib. Let's get this over with."

Byron stood up, and both him and Josie's mother moved to shield Josie. "You will not harm our daughter," they both said in unison.

"We'll see about that," he said nonchalantly, and twitched his wand a little to the left. Josie's parents were thrown to the ground on either side of her, and Voldemort raised his wand. The Avada Kedavra curse was halfway out of his mouth, halfway towards her, and Josie was frozen in fear, her entire life was playing out before her very eyes, when time stopped. The colors faded to diluted, weak versions of themselves, as if they were steeped in gray tea.

Except time wasn't stopped. Not for her and her mother. Her mother stood up then, and glanced down at her fallen husband, whose face was screwed into a mask of humiliation and anger and age. He didn't look like himself, like the handsome, caring, loving man Josie called father.

Then her mother came towards her, and wrapped her arms around Josie.

"This is the end, my dear," she said calmly in Josie's ear. "And there is _nothing_ we can do about it."

"How did you stop it?" Josie demanded. "Why's daddy still frozen?"

"I did not stop it, the spell did. The spell I cast on you and Arabella so many years ago. But it only feels like yesterday that we sat in your nursery, don't you agree?"

"But I have to say goodbye to daddy!" Josie began to cry, her chest began to heave against her mother's breast.

"He doesn't know of any of this," her mother continued. She pulled away from her daughter, and held her at arms length. "I've kept it secret all these years. Don't cry, my love."

"How can't I? I don't understand any of this. I'm going to die, we're all going to die!"

"Yes, it's our time. I'm so sorry," her mother said, smiling very weakly. Tears poured down her face; a dam had broken behind her eyes, a dam built of strength and stoic attitude. "I'm so sorry it has to end this way."

"Mum, I love Frederick," she said, and the words sounded odd in her mouth. It was the first time she had ever said them. "I can't believe that he betrayed me, I just can't."

"Josie, you can never know now, for certain. But if your heart tells you he has remained true to you, then you must trust that he has." Her mother brushed some tears away from Josie's eyelashes with the pad of her thumb, and then pressed her lips against Josie's forehead. "I love you, dear. I love you and your sister more than anything. I'm so sorry it has to end this way, that it has to end so soon. We could have had decades together, the four of us."

"This is all my fault," Josie began to collapse, and her whimpers turned into gasps of breath.

"Stop that, right now," her mother said sternly. "You will not die feeling guilt and pity for yourself. You will go gracefully, that's _all_ I demand of you."

Josie breathed deeply; she breathed deeply until she felt lightheaded.

"This pocket of time is almost over," her mother said urgently. "I can feel it ticking away inside my chest."

"What is going to happen? Will it hurt?"

"It will not hurt," her mother assured her. "But it's going to happen. I will absorb all the pain he is throwing at you. What the spell does is protect you from the pain he will inflict upon you. Ultimately, this is what causes your death. It is not his spell, but my spell that kills you. You would have died anyway, but this makes it easier, more elegant. I love you more than life itself."

Josie couldn't think about her last minutes on this earth. It didn't make sense to her. She just didn't understand. And when the present came rushing back at them both, full of color and screams and bright, excruciating light, she didn't have to. Her thoughts just ended.

It had all gone to pitch, endless, shiny black.

She had ceased to exist.

A/N: Thanks to my beta, MRSSPICY! Thanks to all my readers as well.


	14. Murderous Angst

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Fourteen**: Murderous Angst

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_It's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls." –Counting Crows_

_Christmas Day, 1975_

_3 AM_

Severus woke suddenly with an odd feeling coursing through his body. He was in his bedroom, presumably alone. But he didn't _feel_ alone.

He didn't sit up right away, just stayed underneath his covers with his eyes open. It was a thick, impenetrable, pitch black in the room, as he preferred when he slept, but he could sense a second presence in the room, could almost hear a second heartbeat.

He lay like that for almost five minutes. He counted in his head for two hundred and eighty seconds, and on the cusp of two hundred and eighty-one, pressure was applied to his bed, as if someone were sitting at the foot of it.

A wand tip flared, and Severus was blinded. He couldn't see who it was behind the sphere of light, until the wand was moved aside.

Saloma Yaxley was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him smugly. He rolled his eyes.

"Good morning," Saloma said, false cheer tickling her voice. "You'll never believe what I just found out from Greg."

"Do I care?" Severus grumbled rhetorically.

"Oh, you will care."

"How did you find out where I live?" Severus demanded. He pushed himself up from underneath the blankets and leaned against the hard headboard. He was starting to get a headache.

"Severus, have you forgotten I'm a witch?" Saloma asked dryly.

"What is this important thing you have to tell me?" He was starting to feel very annoyed, so whatever she had to say better be worthwhile.

"According to Greg, the Dark Lord attacked the Figgs last night."

"The Figgs?" Severus' mind was always a smidgen behind when he was woken suddenly in the dead of night.

"Yes, the Figgs." Saloma said impatiently. "Byron and Lucy Figg, Josie Figg, the squib Arabella? Some of the blood traitors. Remember?"

Severus' fingertips began to tingle. "What?"

"Yeah, everyone is dead, except the squib girl wasn't there, so she's still alive."

"Everyone … is … dead?" Severus stumbled over these words.

"E-nun-ci-ate," Saloma said slowly. "Yes, Severus. Star articulation, by the way."

"Shut up," he mumbled, and threw the covers off the bed. She wasn't prepared for this, and so was thrown to the ground. Her usually sleek hair covered her face in tangles.

"What in Merlin's name is the matter with you?"

"Shut up," he said louder. "Leave, now!"

She stood up slowly, and dusted herself off indignantly. "My goodness, Severus. Who knew you were this obsessed with the Mudblood? You're going to have a hard time earning the Dark Lord's graces if you continue with this ridiculous infatuation."

He ignored her insinuations, and began to throw on some outerwear. "Don't you ever call her Mudblood. You are leaving, _now_, Yaxley." He said this all very calmly.

"Be grateful I came and told you. Your little Mudblood friend would've found out later this morning in front of the Prophet, just like everyone else."

He pushed past her wordlessly and filed down the stairs. She followed behind him, babbling incessantly. Soon he was in the back yard, headed for the gate.

"You are _un_believable," he heard behind him. He pictured her standing on the back stoop, a hip popped out and her hands propped on her waist.

"Saloma, I am done with you for the night. You are free to leave now."

She screamed in frustration, and he heard a pop of Apparition, and then silence.

His mind was moving a mile a minute. What was he going to say to Lily? How would she react? He could never predict what she would do or say, and he dreaded telling her more than anything else. But he would rather she found out from him than from the Prophet the following morning.

He hurried through the dark streets, darting under streetlamps wherever he could, and before he had fully prepared, he was standing underneath her bedroom window. He knew she shared a bedroom with Petunia, so he would have to carry out the operation covertly. Petunia would do anything to punish Lily for her magic.

He threw a couple of pebbles from her mother's rock garden up at the side of the window closest to her bed. If only he had been born two weeks earlier, he would be able to magic her awake somehow. He threw five or six more pebbles up at her window, and finally the curtain moved aside. Her pretty face peeked through and stared bemusedly down into the backyard. She smiled widely when she caught sight of him.

He gestured at her to come down, and she mouthed, "three minutes." He shuffled around the yard fretfully, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Before he was ready, the backdoor opened quietly, and she pushed out into the night.

She was beautiful, as usual, and Severus felt a terrible twinge in his heart. She walked slowly down the steps, her hair braided messily, and her hands also shoved in the pockets of her coat. On her head sat a crooked hat.

"Good morning, Severus," she said sweetly. She smiled at him as she moved closer. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then suggested they take a walk.

So they walked, around her house and out into the street, heading nowhere in particular. He was quiet for a while, savoring the feeling of her next to him. She smelt as if she had rubbed sage leaves over her entire body. After about five minutes, Severus realized they were headed to the hill with the big tree, the hill that looked out over Hope Valley. Thinking of that hill led him to thoughts of the dream kiss he had shared with her the night before the school term had started. Her mouth had tasted warm, like an oven.

He was lost in his thoughts and was stirred from them when she tentatively stretched her hand across the gap made by their bodies and traced the top of his swinging hand before grabbing it lightly. She slipped one of her fingers into his loosely formed fist, and he squeezed it gently.

They walked in a slow silence, hand in sweet hand. And he thought for several moments about protecting her from everything. How _could_ he protect her from everything? He knew he had always loved her, and that he would always love her, but how much did that matter when he ended up hurting her anyway?

The night was cold, probably one of the coldest nights there had been yet that winter. Snow fell steadily, and landed in her hair and on her eyelashes. She smiled up at him from time to time, charming naivety glazing her mouth with sugar.

They walked past the chapel that had graced his dream so many months ago, and it still glowed amber behind its windows.

"My mum tried to get us to go to that church earlier tonight, for Christmas mass. My dad refused downright, and Petunia and I looked at her as if she were nutters. She's the only one in our family who tries to indulge in religion anymore. I mean, honestly. God?"

Severus smirked at her attitude towards religion, and appreciated it. They continued on in silence, but Severus never felt the silence they shared cast their relationship in a negative light. Quite the contrary, he felt their silences were attributed to the complete and exact understanding they suffered of one another. They didn't need to speak, only needed to feel.

Severus wished they would never arrive at the tree on the hill, because then maybe he would never have to inform her of Josie's death. But arrive they did, much too soon. Severus wondered what their relationship would be like on the other side of the next five minutes or so.

"So what are we doing here?" Lily asked, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

"Lily, I have something to tell you," he started sullenly.

"Something that couldn't wait until the morning?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, not so articulately.

"Do you want to talk about the kiss we had?"

Severus was thrown off guard. "There is nothing to talk about in regards to that."

Her countenance immediately became icy. "Oh, you think so? So if you didn't come up here to talk about that, then what did you pull me from my bed to discuss?"

"Josie's dead," he said simply, before he could stop himself. It was probably one of the most graceless sentences he had ever uttered in his entire life.

"What?"

"Josie is dead," he said slower, dropping his eyes to the ground in reverence. She turned away from him then, with her arms folded across her chest, to look down into the dark valley peppered with Christmas lights.

"You're lying," she said after several minutes of silence. Her voice was deep and dark sounding, melancholic-like.

He glanced up quickly to look at her bare neck; bits of small baby hairs had escaped the braids and were curling around in soft coils against her skin. "Lily, I would never lie to you, especially not about something like this."

She turned around, and Severus saw that her face was coated in tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, and it looked as if she had been crying for hours already. She looked transformed, and angry.

"I don't believe you," she said more loudly this time. Her voice carried very far in the dark, and she unfolded her arms to ball her hands into fists. "How do you know?"

"Saloma," he replied.

"And how does she know?"

"Her family?"

"You're all lying!" This time she yelled it.

"Lily, what would she gain with this lie?"

"I don't know and I don't care, I just know that you're both lying. Josie isn't dead, she can't be dead."

Severus breathed heavily in frustration.

"She can't be dead." Lily repeated. She was shaking her head now, shaking it furiously. Bits of hair were sticking to her wet, pale face and she was biting her lip, biting so she wouldn't yell and scream at him.

"Lily—"

"Prove it, Sev," she demanded. "PROVE IT!"

"How could I- right now… how could I—"

She ran away from him down the hill, and he quickly followed suit. She ran down the streets, dodging treacherous looking ice patches, and Severus stayed close on her tail. His skin felt frozen, and his hands were definitely stiffer than normal, as were his knees, but he kept up with her, for he had no idea where she was going.

She ran until they were close to Severus' house, and then she ran faster, until she was standing ten feet away from the sidewalk, in the middle of the road, staring at the pool of light cast by a streetlamp. She was stunned into immobility, just staring.

Underneath the lamp stood Frederick Wilkes.

He was looking up at them both, shuffling his feet a little bit. Suddenly, Lily launched herself at him. She wrapped both arms around his waist and pushed him violently back onto the snow-covered lawn.

"This is all your fault," she yelled. She was flailing her arms around, seemingly hitting him anywhere she could with as much force as she could muster. "You did this to her, I know you did." Severus pulled her forcefully off of Frederick, and dragged her several feet away. "You're no better than _any_ of them." She kicked out with her legs and tried with all her might to wrench her arms away from Severus' grasp. "I fucking hate you, I hate all of you."

Frederick stood up slowly, retaining some of his dignity. Lily kept thrashing against Severus' body, and Frederick just looked at her with complete and piercing understanding and misery filling every pore on his face.

"How much does she know?" he asked Severus.

Severus stared at him for a couple of seconds in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You mean you don't know, either?"

"I know the Figgs were all murdered," he said, choking a little bit on the sentence.

"She's right," he said with finality. "It is all my fault."

Lily screamed an unearthly scream, as if she had demons under her skin clamoring to get out. She struggled more violently than ever to twist her body away from Severus' hold.

"Let me fucking go, Severus! Right this bleeding instant."

"It _is_ my fault, but not in the way you might think. My father, who is pretty damn good at Legilimency, caught me thinking about Josie yesterday. I should have been more careful with my thoughts and I will regret it until the day I die. The Dark Lord came to our house not too long after my father confronted me about Josie, and he finished the job my father had started. It didn't take but three minutes for him to see everything Josie had showed me about her father's grounds."

By the end of his confession, Lily had stopped struggling and now hung limply in Severus' arms. He was afraid that if he let her go, she would fall to the ground.

"Frederick," Lily started, regret and misery and endless other raw emotions stretching her voice thin. "Josie was going to tell you something tonight. But now she never can. So I am going to tell you instead." She swallowed roughly, swallowed the cotton that was coating her tongue and throat. "Josie was pregnant, pregnant with your child. I know it's crazy. We're only sixteen, but she was. And she was going to have the baby, and share her life with you. She was in love with you, Frederick. She was so in love with you."

He looked astounded by this information. His mouth gaped open several times, but no sound came out. His knees buckled, and he fell into the snow soundlessly. His hands caught his torso so he didn't fall face first into the snow, and then he retched, retched so violently Severus thought he was going to pass out and then land in the stomach bile, for that was all he was throwing up. But he didn't pass out; he just retched and then rolled over onto his back next to the steaming vomit and his body started to shake. It shook, and he held his hands up to his face and moaned thickly.

Severus finally released Lily, and she slunk over to where Frederick was laying and collapsed next to him. She rested her head on his heaving stomach, and threw her arms over his body, and they both sobbed and mourned, and Severus turned away from them in respect for their grief.

The snow had finally stopped falling, and Severus looked up into the clouded night. The air was swirling menacingly; thick currents of cold collided with one another violently, back dropped by the sounds of angst escaping Frederick and Lily on his lawn. And he thought of nothing. Nothing at all.

A/N: Comments very welcome. Thanks to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.


	15. A Funeral for the Living

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Fifteen**: A Funeral for the Living

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_Life is but a dream for the dead." –Gerard Way_

_Christmas Day, 1975_

After Frederick left, I laid in the snow for what seemed like hours. Severus paced around me in circles, wearing the snow down into packed ice, and I continued to lie there. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to think.

Was she really dead? How could she be dead?

The snow had started falling again shortly after Frederick left, and it swirled down around me. I had wished and prayed for there to be enough accumulation to disappear in. The snow was cold, and it seeped through my wool jacket, but I didn't care: being rendered numb was certainly preferential to feeling any pain.

And the pain was acute, so acute I was sure I would remember it possessing the same piercing sting for the rest of my days. The wound would never heal, would continue to fester and seep and stink and rot. And this was fine with me. I would never, ever forget Josie, and what she had suffered. What she had suffered defending me.

It was so simple and so obvious. But I didn't understand it. What was death? What did it mean? It was a concept that should have been so easily comprehended, but it wasn't.

_How could she be dead? _

Suddenly I thought of Emily, alone in Gryffindor tower. She would be finding out in a few hours, in front of the Prophet in the Great Hall. She would suffer in front of the paper, but why should she have to?

"Severus, I need to get to Hogwarts," I said abruptly, sitting up and dusting off the front of my jacket. All thoughts of sadness momentarily left my mind.

"How are you going to do that?" he asked me.

"I don't know and I don't care, but I have to get there. I have to tell Emily before someone else does. She deserves that."

Severus nodded resolutely. He understood. "We can probably Floo," he pondered. "I'm sure the Three Broomsticks is open. Isn't it always open?"

"How am I supposed to know, Sev?" I demanded. "Help me up?" I asked, holding one of my hands out in front of me. He grasped it and pulled me up out of the snow.

"Come on," he said. He led me into his house and into the front room where the fireplace was empty and cold looking. His mother had bought a small tree and decorated it with silver lights and a red star, and it stood on a table next to the fireplace. There weren't any presents underneath it, and there weren't any stockings hanging from the mantle.

Severus bent down and took a handful of Floo powder out of the open flowerpot standing on the hearth. He pulled me close to him and stepped into the fireplace. For a second all I thought about was the feeling of my head tucked underneath his chin, and the sweetly sour smell of sleep that emanated off his skin. Then he threw the powder down in front of us, and yelled "The Three Broomsticks," and we were off spinning in the grate.

We were vomited out into the pub. It was lit in dark, amber light, and a few patrons were sitting around, indulging in drinks. A couple young looking witches were standing at the bar, girls the owners of the pub hired so their bar could be open twenty-four hours of the day. They smiled over at us sweetly.

We quickly exited the pub, and turned towards the road that would lead us up to Hogwarts. Hogsmeade was pretty and picturesque, even though the air I breathed in was tainted with bitter cold and sadness. The smell of wood smoke was stronger than ever in the air, and the lights icing the houses and fir trees were glazed over with frosted slush.

Severus said nothing out of courtesy for me, but I wished more than anything else that he would talk, make some sort of conversation, even if it was vapid and shallow. Then at least I wouldn't be forced to think about Josie, brilliant, loving, pregnant, youthful Josie.

The walk up to the castle continued to be quiet, so I focused on the grounds instead. I was determined to keep thoughts of Josie out of my head for as long as possible. It wasn't snowing at Hogwarts; the cold was chilling and the wind blew across the vacant grounds, lifting up clouds of powdery snow and pushing them through the air. They glittered in the muted light, and I swore I could see figures and faces in the material air molecules. The sky was clear, and an inky blue, and the stars were strewn across the painted canvas as glitter might have been swiped across a girl's neck.

The castle was warm, and smelt like cookies and pine. We hurried up to the seventh Floor in the silence. Filch was not patrolling the halls, and I was not worried about him in any case. All I could think about was what I was going to say to Emily. I imagined Severus in the same situation as me, not even two hours ago.

The Fat Lady was snoozing and when I tapped her awake, she sucked the bit of droll hanging between her lips back up into her mouth with a snort. "I thought you went home with the rest of them." She said this discourteously.

I ignored her question. "Norway Spruce," I said. Severus chuckled contemptuously under his breath at our password. She swung open, and I started to walk into the hole when I realized he wasn't following me.

"Aren't you coming?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I don't think I should, she will hardly want to see me."

"Come _in_, Sev," I demanded.

He shook his head silently, and turned to walk back down the dark corridor.

"Fine," I muttered under my breath, and the portrait shut behind me.

The common room had a huge tree in the middle of it, decked with tinsel and fairy lights, and scores of other decorations. I maneuvered around it and headed up into our dorm.

I was sure both Mary and Hazel had gone home for the holidays, although I hadn't seen them on the train ride home. Emily never went home for the Christmas holidays, and I had never asked her why she chose not to. I had always assumed the atmosphere in her household was less than full of spirit.

The dormitory was dark; all the shades had been drawn. I made my way over to Emily's bed cautiously, and slipped my hands through her curtains to peer through. She was sleeping soundly and alone; before I had poked my head in, I had this fleeting image of Morgan Kent sleeping in the bed with her, curled up against her back.

I sat down on the edge, and she stirred.

"Em," I whispered gently. She muttered indiscernibly in her sleep, and I felt a stab of pain. "Emily."

She opened her eyes blurrily, and I lit my wand dimly. Her round face was illuminated: her eyes were screwed up against the unwelcome light, and her coppery colored hair glowed softly against her pillowcase.

"Lily?" She sat up and yawned deeply. "Lily, what are you doing here?"

I laid the wand down on the bed, and scooted further to the center, crossing my legs.

"Lily, why are you here?" she asked again.

I struggled for words. All the lines I had rehearsed on the way up to the tower had fled from my mind, as was wont to do in situations such as these.

"Emily, something terrible has happened."

"What? What's happened? Something with your family?" Her voice was heavy and laced with sleep.

My heart was up in my throat now. I choked a bit on it as the next words come out. "Josie's been murdered."

"What?" she breathed. She dragged the word out in disbelief; the question had hissed out of her throat and into the air, and was the question I had been asking myself repeatedly, over and over now, for what seemed like days, years, but what was only a couple of hours. Was it possible to feel a years worth of emotion in just one hundred and twenty minutes?

"Yes," I said, and I was crying now. My head drifted down into my hand and my shoulders shook.

"How do you know?"

"Severus told me."

"Yes, but how does _he_ know?" she was talking loudly now. For a very short second, I was worried she might wake Josie up in the next bed over, and then a fresh wash of realization surged over me.

"Emily, it's true." She was experiencing the same denial I had suffered earlier.

"Did you see her? Did you see her dead body?"

"Wilkes came to Severus' house, Emily. I know it's happened, I can feel it."

"What do you mean, Wilkes came to see you?"

"He had to explain what happened," I said, and then I relied to her everything that Frederick had told me.

But she was not affected as I had been. She was leaning back against her headboard now, and staring at me from underneath her long, red eyelashes. Her arms were crossed under her breasts and she looked angry, stirred to the heartstrings.

"I don't believe that," she said slowly, meticulously sifting through all the thoughts warring behind her forehead. "And quite frankly, I can't believe you do either."

I didn't know what to say. She didn't believe what I was telling her? She must think Frederick was behind Josie's death. But she couldn't understand, she hadn't been there to see him.

"Emily, you have to believe it, because I believe it." I sniffled loudly, sucking the snot running out of my nose back up into my sinuses. "And I was there, I saw him. I told him about the baby, Emily."

She said nothing for a few moments. I knew she was feeling pain, I could sense it seeping out of her skin, but she acted like a stonewall. She acted the way I wished I knew how to act.

"You really don't believe it," I said, shaking my head slightly at her.

"I believe Josie's dead. Something like this was bound to happen. She should never have fallen for that boy. I_ don't_ believe Frederick is exempt from responsibility, though, as you seem to believe."

I realized then she was not going to grieve with me. And I also realized half the reason I had come to Hogwarts at all was to have someone to share the grief with. I leaned back a little bit, and considered trying to convince her further, but it was a moot point. She was steadfast and unable to be swayed. We sat in an awkward sort of silence for a few moments.

"I thought you should know from me, instead of the paper," I said quietly and uncertainly.

"Thank you," she replied genuinely. She looked as if she were chewing on her tongue.

"I guess I will see you at the funeral?"

"Yeah."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and grabbed my wand. She touched my arm, and then leaned her head on my shoulder in an uncharacteristic expression of sadness. "Thank you for coming and telling me, Lils."

I nodded mutely, and left her to revel in her glacial expressions of grief. I hoped with everything I had to hope with that she would be crying after I left.

I found Severus in the corridor outside Gryffindor tower. He was staring out a window wordlessly, and didn't turn to face me until I was next to him, touching his arm gently. He stared down at me for a couple of minutes. His eyes were sad for my loss.

"Let's go, before my parents realize I'm missing," I muttered, and we set off through the silent, sleeping castle.

The dawn was creeping along the grounds now. The air was a dusky bluish-gray and there were shadows every few feet on the ground. Everything was still; the air had stopped moving, and for a moment I felt as if news of Josie's death had finally reached Hogwarts, and the grounds were reacting accordingly in reverence for her memory. Even our footsteps made no noise as we walked down the path to Hogsmeade

Pretty lights were escaping out of the windows of the cottages now, happy, quaint families getting up to celebrate Christmas with each other. They were a different class of people now. I couldn't think they didn't understand what someone like me was going through; Lord Voldemort had affected everyone in some way or another. But I felt separated from them, disconnected from the rest of the world. Even the gap between Severus' hip and mine was charged with negative energy.

Young Rosmerta and her mother were bustling around the pub, their cheeks rosy and their movements spry. Rosmerta was sweeping the Floors, and her mother was setting out light breakfast foods along the bar. They both smiled widely at the two of us when we walked through the door, and Rosmerta wished us a jovial Christmas. I tried to soak up some of the happiness she exuded, but my efforts were in vain. Severus and I returned to his house.

"Would you like me to walk you back home?"

"No, thank you Severus," I replied, folding my arms across my chest. We stared at one another for a few short minutes, and then he reached across the air separating our bodies, and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. I leaned into his touch, and closed my eyes. "Thank you, Sev, for telling me. This is the worst I have ever felt," I admitted.

"Let me walk you home," he urged.

"No, I really feel as if I should be alone right now." I pulled away from his touch and smiled weakly at him. "Happy Christmas, Sev."

"Happy Christmas, Lily."

By the time I was climbing up the stairs in front of my house, tears had frozen themselves to my face. I trudged through the front doors. My legs dragged through sludge. No one had woken yet, and so I sat in the front room next to the glittering tree, alone and brooding. My face was itchy from the tears melting, and they continued their frozen trek down my face, sliding down through the tracks the ones before them had made.

I dreaded the moment my mother came down the stairs. She would confront my tears, and I would be forced to tell her everything that I had never told her before about the wizarding world. She would see the article detailing Josie's death in the Prophet, because she would demand to be privy to each daily paper after this. She might even try to restrict me from attending Hogwarts, but I would quietly remind her that I was due to be seventeen in several weeks anyways. I would go whether she wanted me to or not.

I was anticipating the fight that was soon to come with a heavy sense of resolution. Now that I had experienced first-hand the misery so many other wizarding families had experienced, I was determined to do everything in my power to defy Josie's murderer. So I waited patiently and determinedly that Christmas morning, the understanding and hatred of the idea of change causing my blood to turn to ice. But I had to accept it. So I waited.

_Sunday, December 28, 1975_

_Noon_

I stared down at my shoes. They were shiny and black, dressy. My mother had gotten them for me for Christmas in hopes I would finally get a boyfriend and go to fancy dinners with him. I was breaking them in at Josie's funeral.

The ground underneath my feet was hard and frozen, gravelly and barren. No grass grew here.

Emily stood right next to me, ramrod straight. She stared ahead, her steely gray eyes piercing through the funeral pyres and the attendants to the ocean beyond. The wind whipped her shoulder-length curls around her face, and some strands would routinely stick to her gooey lips.

I was remembering the reaction Emily had practiced Christmas morning. I should have expected it, but a small part of me had hoped she would for once show weakness. But she had reacted the way Emily would: stoically and stonily. Just as predicted. She didn't cry, and she wasn't crying now. I was beginning to wonder if she had cried as a baby. Had she cried those first few seconds out of her mother's birthing canal, or had she taken her first breaths calmly, staring up at the midwife in a bored fashion?

She was cold, and I was feeding hungrily on her coldness. Maybe that was the only real means of survival: bitter and cold attitude. She sure had experienced more than her fair share of bitter-inducing episodes, and I would probably be wise to take the unspoken advice from her.

On the other side of the pyre stood Arabella and Marlena Figg, now the only two remaining members of the family. Arabella was swathed in black. A lacy veil covered her face, and her hands were buried in her coarse wool cloak. Marlena Figg, who was tall and harsh-faced, wore wide, black sunglasses even though it was overcast and icing.

The ceremony was beautiful and huge. There were many people I did not know, all finely dressed and seemingly important. I assumed the attendance was comprised mainly of pure-bloods. It was a very strict tradition (borderline requirement) for every pure-blooded family in the entire country to attend any funeral that honored a pure-blood's passing, never mind the relationship with the deceased. It was considered suspicious and unscrupulous for any pure-blood to skip the ceremony.

I recognized the Potters and the Blacks, the Bones's and the Zieglers, the Prewett's and the Crouch's, and there were many other amiable looking people and groups, all paying their respects to Auror Figg and his fallen family. And then there was the group of supposed Death Eaters and their families. The Avery's were there, and the Rosier's, Travers's, Wilkes's and many others. I couldn't believe Wilkes had the nerve to attend the funeral, especially when more than half of the attendees knew he was mainly to blame for the dead bodies. He had forced Frederick to come, not out of pity but out of shame.

The bodies were burning, and the only thing I could smell on the air was cold. We stood there for a very long time, until every last bit had burnt down into ashes, and then the ashes were scooped up and given to Arabella, who wandered over to the cliff's edge and flung the ashes out into the ocean. She was the only one sobbing, and the sobs cut the air into two. Her cries were thick and tactile, and wrapped me up in bitter sadness, sadness so potent that for the next week all I saw when I closed my eyes was her small, black figure casting the ashes away to forever ebb and sway with the tide.

Josie's laughter echoed on the wind.

_Wednesday, December 31, 1975_

_Afternoon_

The train jostled my body, and shook my luggage in the overhead rack. I don't know why I had bothered stowing it away though; I was sitting in the compartment alone.

Severus had offered to sit with me, had wanted to sit with me. But I told him I would rather sit alone. The train was probably three-quarters of the way back to Hogwarts, and the grounds were speeding past in mottled grays and whites and blacks. The sky was iron gray, and my heart felt tinged with the same gray coldness.

I stared around the compartment at the mess I had made. Since the day after Christmas, I had been writing furiously. I was writing essay after essay, most of them bad, some of them halfway decent. They were all about the government, Lord Voldemort, dark topics like that. I had begun to type up the halfway decent ones on my typewriter, and so there were piles of papers and balls of crumbled up mess all over the seats and on the Floor. The snack lady had looked at me oddly when she had come past, but I had just ignored her.

I knew that I probably shouldn't be writing anything like what I was writing. But I couldn't think of what else to write. When I put pen to paper, that was all that came out. And I didn't really care. It's not as if I was going to do anything with what I was writing. But I had to write something, so that was what I wrote.

I forgot about Josie when I wrote. My mind was trained on a broader, more definitive subject. I still didn't understand exactly what had happened. At the funeral, I had wondered why they were burning the bodies. What if Josie decided to wake up? What if she turned her head towards me and spoke? I had longed to converse with her. After all, she was lying within reach. The other attendees had needed to dissolve away, and then maybe she would have spoken back to me.

I'm sure you think this is endlessly immature, but it was my first experience with death. I was not well acquainted with the entire reaction, and so honestly didn't know what to think. And it was a very strange feeling for me to be unable to think anything with surety and certainty.

Tonight was the night Dumbledore had wished for us all to celebrate the New Year together. But I couldn't imagine he would still wish to throw any sort of party, and if he did, I indubitably would not be attending. I didn't care what the other people in my house thought.

I felt as if all I had been doing the last few days was waiting. Waiting for something to happen. But I didn't know what I was waiting for. I hovered on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that would either pull me into an infinite, dark pit or a cliff that would allow me to lift myself back up over the crumbling edge, stronger and colder than ever.

_Later that Evening_

"Good evening," Dumbledore said.

Everyone was assembled in the Great Hall, sitting at the tables and staring up towards the somber Headmaster. Black tapestries hung from the ceiling, and everyone was deathly quiet.

"Tonight, we were going to celebrate the New Year together. Instead, we find ourselves sitting here, mourning the death of one of our students. Josie Figg, a bright student and excellent Quidditch player, was found with her two parents in their mansion, murdered by Lord Voldemort. I realize he has affected each and every one of you before this, but this is perhaps the first time we have all been affected as one. For those of you unacquainted with the Figgs, let me tell you they led a tireless fight against Lord Voldemort. Byron Figg was a fantastic Auror, and was responsible for many attacks against the Death Eaters. It is imperative that we remember all three of them, especially Josie, who sat with all of you in class, and laughed at the same jokes you did, and won many Quidditch games for Gryffindor. So I ask all of you to remember Josie Figg, think of her every day. Think of the sacrifices her and her family made. You all are dismissed. Dinner will be served in the common rooms tonight."

But I wasn't hungry. I was already filled with sadness. I met Severus, as usual, and we walked around the lake. It was snowing again, and the snow fell on our shoulders in quiet repose. I found comfort in Severus' presence, and held his hand loosely in my own. And we walked into the falling snow, footsteps muffled by the down covering the cold ground.

And I waited with bated anticipation for what was to come next.

A/N: Comments welcome. Thanks to my readers. Thank you to MRSSPICY.


	16. Miscellanea

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Sixteen:** Miscellanea

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor will I ever pretend to be.

"_Yes, it's true, that I was made for you." Brandi Carlile _

_Monday, January 5, 1976_

_Afternoon_

Severus was sitting in afternoon Advanced Defense class, taught by Marlena Figg on the first floor. They were taking notes on a subject he already knew scores about, so instead of listening to her lecture, he was covertly staring at Lily Evans.

She was sitting two rows in front of him, diagonally to the left. He could see her perfectly through the gap afforded by the heads of James Potter and Dexter Adams. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Severus to avoid staring at her since Josie had died. It might be cliché, but she had become what many might term "tragically beautiful," and Severus thought that maybe she transcended beyond that. She was now angelically stunning. Severus had always thought her beautiful, and it had only gotten better since the Christmas Eve tragedy. Lightning strike him down for thinking such a thing.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and tiny wisps had snuck out of the rubber band. They curled around her hairline, and he could almost reach out and touch the line in her neck. In her ears shone modest diamonds, earrings her father had given her for Christmas. She was eagerly taking notes on what Figg was talking about.

Severus felt something nudge his right elbow, and he looked around. Frederick was staring at him oddly, with narrowed eyes. He was pushing a note in his direction and Severus sighed loudly. He hated note passing. Frederick shoved it harder into Severus' elbow.

It read:

**Going to USDL tonight? **

Severus wrote back:

_**Yes**_**.**

Frederick scribbled back:

**I don't want to go. I'm having doubts about this whole thing.**

Because of the thing with Josie. Severus hated when Frederick tried to confide in him. Couldn't the boy keep his thoughts to himself? Severus did, for Merlin's sake! Why couldn't he be afforded the courtesy he gave everyone else?

Frederick took the note back when Severus didn't reply, and wrote some more.

**I think you should skive off with me. **

_No_, Severus thought to himself. He glanced up from the note, and over to Lily again. If she knew about these meetings, she would want him to skive off, of course. He stared down at the note for a long while, chewing on his tongue.

Why did Frederick have to trust him like this?

_**How are you going to skive off? The meetings are in our common room… **_

Frederick pondered this for a minute and Severus took the note back and wrote:

_**Besides, Yaxley and Lestrange will be done with you in two seconds. Do you really want to risk that? **_

**I can't stand going though. **

_**I don't know what to tell you. And destroy this note.**_

And Severus was done with it. It wasn't his concern whether or not Frederick did or didn't go to the meeting. They weren't exactly _friends_, anyway.

After class, Severus deftly skirted Frederick in the hall, and managed to catch Lily before she headed up a staircase. He grabbed her wrist and she turned around, smiling slightly at him. Emily, who had been walking next to her, almost imperceptibly rolled her eyes. Severus, who had never particularly enjoyed Leach's presence before, found it positively abrasive since Josie's death.

"Yeah, Sev?"

"Could I have a word?"

"Sure," she replied, stepping closer to him.

"Lily, I thought we were going to work on the Runes assignment," Emily said. Her red curls were kinked up around her temples like horns and Severus just wished she would bugger off.

"Em, we have until Wednesday," Lily said over her shoulder.

She scoffed, and before he and Lily could move away, Black had snuck up behind Emily.

"What do you say, Leach?" He clapped a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him in disgust.

"What, Black?" she demanded.

"I had a little bit of trouble with Figgs' lecture, you want to clear some things up for me?"

Black was lying. He never had any trouble with Defense.

"In your dreams, Black," Emily spat out, and wrenched her shoulder out from under his grasp.

"What are you looking at, Snivelly?" he spat.

"Let's go," Lily said, before a fight had the chance to break out.

When they were out of earshot, Lily asked Severus where they were going. And Severus actually didn't know, as he had asked her to walk with him on a whim.

"Let's just walk?"

"Ok," she shrugged.

Severus started thinking about things, things he would rather not think about. Like Lily's bright red lips set against her ivory skin, a smudge of blood. He squashed down the lusty images infiltrating his mind.

Severus was having a very hard time these days distinguishing between love and lust, and what constituted one or the other. Weren't they, after all, the same thing on a primal level? He knew that what he felt for Lily transcended beyond lust, but sometimes the sexual desire he felt was more powerful than anything. He wanted to rub that bloody red rouge off her mouth and taste her real lips, make them coral colored and swollen, eager for him.

"Severus, what are you thinking about?" Lily asked perkily. She clutched her books to her chest innocently.

He was mildly horrified.

"Research stuff," he mumbled.

"Oh," she replied, sounding a tad dejected. What had she expected him to say? He rubbed the back of his head with his hand awkwardly.

Suddenly she pulled him into an empty, dark classroom. Thick curtains draped the few windows, and grimy torches flared into existence. "Severus, I really want to talk about something." Her eyes stared up at him. They were gigantic discs of swampy green sadness and confusion and myriad other emotions. Severus' heart melted, but it wasn't the first time.

She bit those lips, and a bit of her lipstick came away on her front teeth. She seemed unsure of herself.

"Well, what is it?"

"I want to kiss you again," she blurted out.

Severus chuckled. His heart was racing inside, though. She wanted to kiss him again? That meant she enjoyed it the first time!

So he reacted by placing his mouth on hers.

The kiss was different this time. He begged her lips to slide open, and they did, slowly and sensuously, like honey dripping from a cup. She seemed an expert at this, and he was trying to appear not like a blundering fool in unknown territory.

It was so hard to resist not prying for more. Her mouth tasted better than he ever imagined it would, and it tasted real. Not like sugar, but like the pumpkin juice she drank with her lunch earlier. His hand cupped the side of her neck and he could feel the artery under her ear pulsing quickly and urgently. He took the books out of her arms and set them on a desk, and then he pulled her closer to him. Her breasts pressed up against his chest and her arms snuck around his neck, and he opened his eyes for a second. Hers were closed in rapture, and the eyelashes rested placidly atop her cheeks. The long curve of her nose swung down and out of sight and he shut his eyes again.

He never wanted the kiss to end. It was all he had ever dreamed of and then more. He didn't need air; she was his air.

She gently pushed him away and panted softly. The noise only made him want more of her. And so they kissed again.

Severus had exited reality. He was swimming in some sort of thick, gooey resistance. The only solid object was her body, pressed slyly up against his. Severus couldn't believe this was happening to him. There was no mistletoe locking their lips in place. She had come supplicating to him.

If the kiss lasted any longer, he would want more, more of her. He pulled away this time, and she wiped her mouth slowly with the back of her hand.

"Why did you stop?"

He had to surface from the unreality though, before he could speak or think coherently. And he couldn't even form a logical answer to her question. He couldn't remember now why he had stopped. Her saliva was like a poison, or a drug. He had never imagined that kissing anyone, even Lily Evans, would be so climactic.

So he just stared at her, trying his absolute hardest to infuse the desire he felt for her into his eyes. She didn't hold his gaze for very long; he imagined it burned the surface of her irises with a potent hunger.

"Severus," she choked. "I can't be with you."

He had known this was so, had always known the horrible truth of it. But he couldn't get past the absurdity of it. He loved her. **He** _loved_ her! Never mind all the romances ending in tragedy: they were nothing compared to what this one could be.

Severus' arrogance at that moment surprised even him, and after a few more minutes' ground-level thinking, he attributed it to the lingering aftershocks of the kiss. He was infinitely glad his first real kiss had been, for one thing, with Lily Evans, and, for another, so immensely earth shattering.

Severus knew there was one way they could be together, but the consequences and repercussions could be more than severe. He could be forever alienated from everything he had ever dreamed of. Was he willing to risk that?

"But I _want_ to be with you," she continued. Her forehead was bunched with confusion. The equations were getting harder and harder to solve.

He had to think, quickly. She never came to him like this, and wouldn't ever come to him again if he answered even a centimeter off the mark. He gulped.

"Lily, I-" he started, but suddenly she shushed him, drawing herself up to his body and placing a finger lightly against his lips.

"There's nothing to say, Severus," she whispered. "It's as simple as that."

He was discouraged by her sense of finality. They both knew perfectly well they should never be together. He was buried in the Dark Arts, and she was as pure as clear winter sunlight. That was what drew him to her, though. They weren't exact opposites of one another; in fact, Severus thought maybe they were more alike than even he knew. If only she could see that.

She was gathering her books now; her hair swung around and obscured her shoulders, a cherry gold curtain, shimmering against the small, dim fires.

Severus wasn't too sure exactly what had just happened. They hadn't really made any progress- the kiss sort of hung ambiguously in the air. Or maybe she carried it on her form, taunting him, dragging him on a leash.

"See you after dinner, Sev?" she asked innocently. And she walked out.

He almost wished she hadn't kissed him at all.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

_Late Evening_

Severus was sitting in the Common Room with his housemates. It was a little before eleven. He was a little surprised to see Frederick there, but Frederick wouldn't meet his eyes, so he thought nothing of it, except for the problem Frederick might have when Saloma closed the meeting.

"Did you read the material?" Virginia asked him. Her elegant fingers flipped through the text absentmindedly.

"I had already read this," he replied.

"Virginia, he's already read this," Jezzy said nastily. She was such a caricature.

"It was certainly interesting," Virginia continued, ignoring Jezebel.

"Let's go, everyone," he heard Saloma say. They walked over to the fireplace and handed over their wands. Surprisingly, curiously, Frederick responded perfectly normal to the spell. Severus would wonder about that later.

"Firstly, I want to introduce a new member, from Hufflepuff. She claims she was missorted, everyone." Saloma added this, for a few people had groaned in protest at the word 'Hufflepuff'. "Vernette Ziegler."

The willowy girl wore her hair in curly brown pigtails, and she smiled soberly at them all. Severus thought for a moment he remembered Lily talking about being friends with Vernette. Everyone clapped half-heartedly.

"I'm not going to have us go through the text this time. This isn't primary school. I do want to talk about some things that have happened since our last meeting before the holidays, however.

"Now, clearly we have some people in this group who don't really understand what it means to be a Death Eater. You cannot go prancing around, disregarding what you are supposed to be advocating. This is your last chance, folks, to back out. This is one of the main reasons this club was banded. The Dark Lord doesn't want anyone in his ranks who is less than one hundred percent sympathetic of his ideals. He understands this is not the case for everyone, and so he is generous, very generous if you ask me. Many of his older supporters were never offered this opportunity. I really think there are several of you here right now who are having second thoughts about the Dark Lord, and I don't have problems with that. I do have problems, however, with you making me look bad in the eyes of the Dark Lord by entertaining both black and white. Make your decisions now, before you run out of time.

"I think that should be all for tonight's meeting. Next meeting we will be discussing the text. I just would like to see a few students. Vernette Ziegler, Frederick Wilkes, and Severus Snape. In that order, if you please. The rest of you are dismissed."

Rodolphus started handing back everyone's wands, and Severus waited on a couch nearby for Saloma to be done talking to Vernette and Frederick. She merely handed Vernette the materials she would need to be an active member in the USDL. Severus wondered who had recommended her as a member, especially since he remembered now she did have a tendency to spend time with the Gryffindors.

She left shortly after that, and then Saloma was talking to Frederick. She handed him two separate folds of parchment, and looked very grave and serious about their conversation. Frederick nodded curtly several times, and then moved away from her and down the stairs to the dorms.

"Severus, I have a list of potions," she said to him when he got closer to her. "The Dark Lord is very aware that you were the one who brewed the potion I presented to him before, and he was very impressed with it. Unfortunately, the theory you and I both put behind the project was not successful, but he is still impressed with the precision you undoubtedly possess. He does not particularly care that the project did not work, but he is eager for you to attempt to brew these potions."

She handed him a considerably long list; he had heard of all but 3 of the potions on the list. About half of them were relatively simple potions, such as Veritaserum; the rest were ancient potions which he had read about, but had never attempted brewing.

"He wishes you to work your way down the list; he also hopes you will become his main supplier of potions. He wishes to acquire a store of most of these potions, the ones that are underlined. I assume this is what you are most interested in regards to work for the Dark Lord. He relayed to me he had never come across a potion more perfectly brewed than the one you brewed at Halloween. He said he followed the instructions, and there were perhaps hundreds of mistakes you could have made, but you circumvented all of these, and created an almost perfect potion, the one problem being, of course, that it ended up not working."

"Very well," he heard himself saying. He folded the list up and put it in his pocket. "I would, of course, be more than happy to do this for the Dark Lord."

"Thank you, Severus," she replied. "Good night."

"Good night," he murmured, and swiftly made his way down to the dormitories.

Frederick's bed curtains were closed tightly when he entered the room. The rest of his housemates were still awake, though. Judas stared at him grimly, perhaps still recalling Severus' less than hospitable attitude regarding his and Saloma's project for the Dark Lord. Severus nodded and then turned to his own bed curtains, shutting them succinctly.

Severus didn't know what to think. Of course he was more than ecstatic to be the one the Dark Lord wished to brew his potions. He wasn't even a seventh year yet, and harbored no real credibility. The only way the Dark Lord knew how talented he was was through Saloma. She must have talked him up a lot, which is uncharacteristic of her by several kilometers.

He was very conflicted. Being the Dark Lord's potions master would epitomize all he had ever dreamed of being. It would actually transcend beyond his dreams, and take him to a place he, a half-blooded nobody, never thought he could reach.

But on the other hand, becoming a Death Eater would symbolize the end of any chances he had at spending his life with Lily, even in friendship. She had been conflicted herself as of late, but he didn't even wish to think of what it may be about. If he thought it could be about him, and then he discovered it wasn't, he would be devastated.

Not that it would be a huge change from the way his life had been before sixth year started. He had always considered Lily way too perfect and gorgeous and pure and sweet for him. But if he started considering being hers, he would commit himself to it. And then the rejection would be so much more poignant.

He took out the list and turned it over and over in his hands. He balanced on two sides of a colossal decision; it shaped the way his life would invariably be from here on out. This was, of course, obvious.

His seventeenth birthday was in four days. The Dark Lord would expect him to be at the next Death Eater's meeting. Saloma would undoubtedly be informing him of this information, and he was still on tenterhooks, still was unsure of who exactly he wanted to be.

A/N: Comments welcome.

Sorry about the kind of short chapter. Wanted to get this posted, since it had been a while since the last one.


	17. Hard Times

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Seventeen:** Hard Times

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

"_I've been keeping company with a ghost." Vanessa Carlton _

_Saturday, January 10, 1976_

_6 a.m. _

I was having a very hard time, with life in general.

I was standing on the balcony off the seventh floor, allowing the morning light to lace itself into the air. I couldn't see the horizon, as it was blocked by trees and towns, but the sky was a small combination of clear navy and green light. Several bold stars hung delicately in the sky, clinging to their dying brilliance. The air was cold and crisp, filling my nose with memories of pain.

I was having a very hard time.

Not that I meant to complain or anything. But I was. I couldn't separate my days anymore. Everything blended together. Sure, yesterday was Severus' birthday, but we didn't even celebrate it together, like we had before. And on Monday I kissed him for the first real time, ever in history, but it could have happened tomorrow or two years ago, and I wouldn't have discerned the difference.

Josie had died eighteen days ago. Eighteen days ago, she had woken for the last time in her bed, and eaten breakfast and wrapped presents with her mother. This was all I knew. I was born the day after she died. I was born again, but I would rather have died.

Sure, I was very good at hiding my pain, obscuring it behind a dense wall of spider's steel. But that didn't mean it wasn't there. It just meant it ran much, much deeper than I could ever have imagined.

Two nights ago, I had visited Dumbledore's office for the first time. He had summoned me.

"_How are you doing, Miss Evans?"_

"_Fine." _

_He stared at me piercingly. His mouth rested on his thick, wiry beard, and Fawkes cooed empathetically behind him. _

"_Arabella Figg is here," he continued. "She is staying with her aunt." _

_I hadn't known this. Actually, I hadn't wondered at all what had happened with Arabella. _

"_I thought maybe you would like to visit her." _

"_Has she asked to see me?" _

"_No," he admitted. _

_We sat silent for several minutes. _

"_Here are Professor Figg's personal quarters." He gave me a room number. " I'm sure she would never turn you away if you wished to see Arabella." _

"_Have you told Emily?" _

"_No," he repeated. "Miss Leach is a very different person from you."_

_I silently agreed. Emily would never wish to see Arabella, at least not for a very long time. She might even partially blame Arabella for what had happened. _

_We sat, he quite comfortable, and I squirming. _

"_You may leave, if you wish." _

_I excused myself. _

Professor Figg's quarters were on the fourth floor. I knew exactly how to get there. After I left his office, I had arbitrarily wandered down the stairs and stood at the end of the hall, staring into the misty blackness.

Now I stood in the cold, in the early morning, turning the piece of paper with her room number on it over and over in my chapped hands. I didn't know what sort of feelings seeing Arabella Figg would invoke. I wasn't sure if I was ready to visit her or not. If I was ready to make that leap into obscure emotion.

And would Arabella even wish to see me? I hadn't seen an inch of her around Hogwarts since term started. She probably wished only to remain in her aunt's quarters, cut off from the world, counting away the days since she had last seen her family. Maybe seeing one another would only remind us both of how much we had lost.

It was freezing out, but I barely noticed the cold. Lately I had found myself preferring to be outside, where the icy air bit away the pain. The sky was lightening significantly now, was the color of an Easter egg dipped in its palest pink coat. I gathered myself together and walked to the Great Hall for breakfast.

A ministry owl delivered my Prophet, but I shoved it aside without even glancing at the front cover. The Great Hall was very empty: no Gryffindors, aside from me, or Hufflepuffs sat at the tables and only a few each of Ravenclaw and Slytherin lined their benches. I poured myself a strong cup of coffee and some orange juice and separated a grape fruit to nibble on while my bowl of oatmeal cooled. Finally, after all my breakfast was eaten, I turned to the Prophet.

Another muggle family had been attacked and killed. Every time I got these papers, especially those with articles like that, I dreaded sending them to my mother, but she required them now. Every few days she expected a bundle of newspaper from Lotte, who preferred the trips as opposed to being cooped in the Owlery. But as my mother became increasingly aware of the happenings in the wizarding world, so did I.

I had never been completely oblivious, but sending the stories to my mother elicited more cringing than I had ever done before. I guess maybe I was just becoming more aware, more in tune with the reality of it all. I had been successful for the past 5 and a half years of keeping the events of the wizarding world from reaching my mother's ears, and now that she read of the deaths every day, I regretted more and more keeping her in the dark. Receiving the entire history all at once was definitely more earth shattering than a culmination of 5 or 6 years information.

I finished my cooled cup of coffee. It coated my mouth with a thick film of stale taste.

"Good morning, Lily." Emily sat down next to me. It was now eight and I had read through almost all of the articles in the paper.

"Morning," I mumbled. I hadn't told Emily yet that Arabella was here. I hadn't actually told her much of anything as of late. She had constructed a frozen brick wall around her emotional person and I was sure it would never melt.

"Can I have that crossword?" she asked between bites of toast. I ripped it out and handed it to her, and she immediately set to work filling it in with a pencil. Remus joined us shortly thereafter, and they completed it together, once in a while requesting my contribution. I was always very good at filling in crosswords, but never thought it was particularly fun.

More people were filling the Hall now, talking about the Quidditch Match between Gryffindor and Slytherin that was to happen in a couple hours. It would be Gryffindor's first match with their new chaser to replace Josie. I had frequently gone to see Josie play, but I had no reason to go now and hadn't planned on it.

"Miss Leach, may I have a word with you?"

Professor McGonagall was standing behind us, and we both turned and absorbed her grave face. Emily stood up without looking at me and they walked quickly out of the hall.

I didn't have time to really think about it, however, as Potter had arrived at the table.

"Top o' th' mornin', Evans!" I groaned at his exuberance and hid my face in my hands.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Coming to the match?"

I just got up and left the table, staring at him in disgust as I walked by.

"What did I say?" I heard him ask Remus. Remus mentioned the words "complete oblivion" in his response.

Outside the Great Hall I ran into Severus. He was accompanied by his Slytherin friends, who smirked in contempt as they walked by. Severus paused.

"Good morning, Lily," he said.

"Happy Birthday, Sev," I replied bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Since I couldn't wish it to you yesterday."

He looked sheepish about that, but said nothing.

"I have your gift in my dormitory," I continued, turning away from him. I was angrier than I had initially thought about not spending time with him at all yesterday. "That is, if you even want it."

"Of course I want it," he replied defensively.

"Where were you all day, anyway?" I demanded as we began walking up to the seventh floor.

"Studying, and then Saloma had arranged a surprise party in the common room. I hated it and have no idea why she did it. I didn't even know she knew when my birthday was." He muttered this last part.

I stared at him suspiciously but chose not to comment. We walked the rest of the way in relative silence. I ran up and retrieved the bundle from under my bed, and shoved it into his hands.

"Don't bother opening it now, it's nothing special anyway," I said.

"Okay," he replied, staring at me oddly. "What are you doing today?"

"Well, right now I need to find out where Emily is and why it is taking her so long to talk with McGonagall. We have some assignments to do together. I guess later we can work on the project for Slughorn."

He left then, to go to a late breakfast. And I was stuck wondering where Emily was. She had been gone for at least an hour now. What on earth could McGonagall be talking to her about? I walked back into the common room and settled on a couch in front of the fire. I wrote an essay for Herbology and did some research for my Potions project, and by the time it was three o'clock, decided maybe I should wander over to McGonagall's office and see if Emily was still there.

I knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I opened the door and slid inside. McGonagall was sitting at her desk, grading some papers. But Emily was not there.

"Hello, Miss Evans," she said, looking at me curiously.

"Hi Professor," I replied. "I was wondering if you by any chance knew where Emily is?"

"Hmm, I thought she would have told you before she left," McGonagall said. "Never mind. Emily had to go home for a few days, on emergency."

"What sort of emergency? It doesn't have anything to do with Madison, does it?"

"No, nothing to do with her sister. I don't know if I should be the one telling you this," McGonagall continued, looking at me over her glasses. Her pen was poised in midair, her voice ripe with hesitancy.

I just stared at her.

"But you are such good friends with her… there was an accident at her house very late last night." She paused for a moment. "The live-in nursemaid at Emily's house found her mother dead."

"What? How on earth- what in Merlin's name happened?"

"She committed suicide."

I sat down heavily in the chair in front of McGonagall's desk.

"So Emily will be gone for a few days, to help her grandmother make the necessary arrangements, for the funeral, et cetera."

"She didn't ask for me to come with her?"

"No, she didn't mention anything like that," McGonagall replied softly.

But of course she hadn't. Emily would never ask for help.

I said nothing for a few moments, just turned my head and stared out the window. The sky was periwinkle colored. Then I turned back and smiled weakly at McGonagall.

"Thank you, Professor."

She looked slightly sympathetic, and nodded in astute and severe reverence.

I turned and walked out the door.

Three mornings later I woke up and Emily was lying in her bed. I was a little hurt that she hadn't even bothered to wake me up, but busied myself getting ready for class anyway. I skipped breakfast and went straight to Advanced Arithmancy with Professor Bruxson on the fourth floor, one of the two classes I used to have with Josie.

Now I sat by myself. Emmeline Vance was in the class, along with six or seven other Ravenclaws, Vernette Ziegler and Edgar Bones only from Hufflepuff, and Virginia Travers, Judith Chester, Tori Shelsher, and Thomas Gamble from Slytherin. My fellow Gryffindors included Hazel Clarke, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.

Bruxson was talking about stuff. A lot of stuff, in fact, that would be on the exam come next week. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the dirty windowpanes. Through them I saw the iced over lake, and the ice draped trees and mountains. Cold light shone down; everything was hardening to impenetrable bricks. Bruxson's voice leaked into my ears slowly, trying to move through the chilled honey in the air. The sounds were muffled and buried underneath my thoughts until Emmeline poked me in the arm.

"Hello? Class is over, Lily," she said, looking at me oddly. I took in the rest of the room and realized that even Professor Bruxson had left.

"Oh, thanks Emmeline," I replied, gathering my blank parchment and books into my bag.

"See you later tonight?" she asked, referring to our Arithmancy club.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, not really noticing she was leaving. Once my stuff was packed I moved slowly out of the room.

I had to go back up to Gryffindor tower to get my Potions books, so I headed in that general direction, dragging my fingers along the roughened stone walls. The halls were virtually empty; everyone was either in class or asleep.

The common room was smattered with students studying. Quiet discussion floated up to the ceiling, created a dull, rumbling murmur that hurt my ears.

I glided up the stairs, as if they were moving of their own accord, and let myself into the dormitory. I busied myself at my bed, dumping my books out on the comforter and sifted through my bookshelf, looking for my potions materials. I stood up and started shoving everything in my book bag when I heard a muffled cough come from Emily's bed.

She was still sleeping! I wandered over towards her bed and sat down on the edge of it; I was reminded stiffly of Christmas morning and sat up a bit straighter in response to the bitter memory.

The covers were pulled up almost to cover her entire head. Tangled kinks of curls washed over the ivory white of her pillow, sharply contrasting against the skin on her forehead.

"Em," I mumbled, shoving her gently. "Emily, wake up." Her body stirred a bit underneath the blankets. "Emily, why didn't you go to class?"

"What?" I heard sharply from underneath the blankets. "What do you want, Lily?"

I was taken aback.

"Emily, what's the matter?"

She threw the covers off her body, and glared at me. "What do you think's the matter?"

"I wouldn't know, since you didn't tell me at all where you were going this weekend. I went to McGonagall. Why didn't you at least have the decency to tell me where you were going, how long you were going to be gone for?"

"Please, Lily," she replied. "It doesn't matter, you don't have to know everything that is going on around you."

"We are supposed to be friends," I argued vehemently. "Friends tell one another these sort of things. I'm so sorry you're mother died."

She just scoffed. "You actually think we are friends?"

I was shocked at her response. Of course I thought we were friends! What on this earth had brought this on?

"What?"

"You are so daft sometimes, it amazes me. Do you think I was really going to want to remain friends with someone who, after a death like Josie's, still cavorted around with people like Severus Snape? Have you no logical sense?"

She was very close to being out of line.

"What do you mean?"

"Lily, he is a Death Eater! How can you be so stupid? Do you have no respect for Josie's memory?"

I narrowed my eyes in anger. She, who had never been nearly as close to either of us as we had been to one another, was lecturing me on respect for Josie's death!

"You were the one who didn't so much as shed a tear when I told you about what happened!"

"Crying doesn't reflect reverence for someone's death, you bleeding idiot. At least I don't walk around, flirting with Snape as if it never happened. You are pathetic and not nearly as smart as I once thought you were."

"Emily, I-"

"Don't say anything," she spat. She shoved past me and got out of the bed. Her nightgown was twisted around her body and her cheeks were red with anger. "I don't want to hear your voice. You have no understanding of what it means to be dead, or what it means to suffer someone's death. You have never suffered anything in your life, and you walk around acting so wounded, like a beaten puppy. It's absolutely pathetic."

I didn't believe she was saying these things; bitter anger against me fueled her words; she seemed to have stored these emotions for a very long time and was only now letting them burst from her chest. I willed my eyes not to fill with tears.

"Emily, where in Merlin's name is this all coming from?"

"Shut up," she screamed, turning back to me, her face twisted into fury, her hands balled tightly together, her hair wired around her head like some sort of thorny, fiery halo. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

I stared at her in confusion. I couldn't imagine where she had gotten the impression that, merely because Severus and I were still friends, I didn't genuinely feel for Josie's death.

"Severus was not in any way responsible for what happened Christmas Eve, Emily, and you know it." I said loudly, standing up.

"Of course not directly. But what do you think he stands for? What do you think the name _Death Eater_ stands for?"

"Severus is not a Death Eater," I retorted.

"Not yet," she said simply, ominously. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me with banal finality.

I pushed past her, grabbed my bag off the bed and ran out of the room.

In that moment, I knew we were no longer friends, that maybe we would never be friends ever again. And in that instant, I didn't care. She was so full of hate that she bred it. It seeped out of her skin like yellow-green pus, infectious and sticky, wrapping those around her in the solid liquid. I was already feeling the effects of it.

For I hated her then. I hated her attitude and her stoic manner: her voice like a harpy's, her face like a porcelain doll's, hiding so much, thought and emotion buried beneath the cold alabaster shell. Or maybe there was nothing: nothing but air, hot stale air fused and bonded with inbred hatred.

She had always been darker than the rest of us.

A/N: Comments welcome.


	18. Interlude, Emily Leach

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Eighteen:** Interlude, Emily Leach

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

Emily Leach. Her middle name was Rhianu, a Welsh name representing her Welsh heritage. Her mother, born and raised in Aberystwyth, insisted that if her first name weren't Welsh, her middle name would be. She was born June 24, 1959, in her mother's bedroom by way of her mother's mid-wife. It seems old-fashioned, but her mother was old-fashioned.

She was a short girl, apple-shaped and pale skinned, a true redhead. Her hair was a fantastic collaboration of frizzy red and gold, glinting off the sun. Her eyes were clear grey, the color of a rainy, cold day. She wore silver-rimmed, elegant glasses when she read. Her nose was slightly crooked, having been broken during her primary school days in a fight with one of her schoolmates.

She had started smoking when she was twelve, over summer holidays. Her few muggle friends were not good influences on her and after that summer she had been addicted to the nicotine.

Her family had been wonderful. Her father loved her and Madison, and played with them all the time when he came home from work. Her and Madison loved playing house. Their mother always had cookies in the oven, or warm pumpkin bread cooling on the stove. Their grandmother lived just down the road and always joined them for Sunday supper.

Emily remembered vaguely the one psychotic breakdown her mother had suffered. It swam in her memory as dark colors and warm blankets and muffled voices. She had been five years old at the time, and had not understood what was happening. She just knew it was bad.

When her father had died, everyone had been devastated. Madison had not understood, and Emily had known she would never see her father walking up the lane in the late afternoon again. She remembered her mother hospitalized, and Nona coming to stay with them shortly after their mother returned from the local hospital. Their grandmother had always been there after that.

Emily hadn't understood death. She was sure maybe she never would. It came, screaming shrilly like a summer gale. Sometimes she stood at the edge of the cliff in her backyard, staring out over Cardigan Bay, trying to understand things about life and death, philosophy and religion.

Her mother was devoutly religious; they all went to the small chapel in their town every Sunday for service. Emily too was religious and prayed to God every night when she was young, but as she matured, it began making less and less sense and she stopped praying. It felt the same; her mother had told her if she didn't say her bedtime prayers, she would feel heavy, like a person in water sinking with cement blocks tied to the legs. But this didn't happen; she felt as cementless as she had before and this meant surely there was no God. Poor logic, maybe, but logic nonetheless. Logic of an eleven year old.

She enjoyed Hogwarts, and had made friends with Josie and Lily. However, just as she had felt out of place at her muggle schools, she felt out of place at Hogwarts. She didn't feel as if she belonged anywhere. Maybe she was a vagabond. Her head was too small for her thoughts.

She had learned when she was young, at school, not to show emotion. The kids in her class were mostly ruffians and she did not make friends with any of them. In fact, she absolutely hated attending school when she was a child, but her father made her go, and after he died, she still went because she understood that was what he had always wanted of her. When she had received her invitation to Hogwarts, she had been excited, feeling as if she would finally fit in with people her age. Maybe her magic was the reason she had clashed so with the other kids in her town.

But it had not been so. She enjoyed Hogwarts and all it had to offer her, but it was not a home, she did not love it or most of the people who attended there. Lily would argue Emily loved none of them, but Lily knew no better.

When Josie had died, she had been devastated. After Lily left Christmas morning, Emily had spent most of the day confined to her bed, sleeping instead of crying. Every few hours she would wake, oblivious for a few short seconds to reality. But then it would come rushing back and she would try desperately to fall asleep again, so as not to feel the pain.

Lily thought she did not care because of her stoic nature, but what did Lily know? She didn't understand anything Emily did, any of her intentions or thoughts. No one really ever had, except maybe her father.

Lily had changed a lot since Emily first met her. Once she had been a happy, bright child. Now she was ignorant, and embittered by experience. As if she had even experienced that much. Lily didn't talk very much about her family life, but from what Emily gathered, it was loving and supportive, aside from Petunia. And Josie's death shouldn't have been enough to turn her against the world.

Emily knew that no matter how many times she told Lily that Snape was bad, Lily would still need to learn for herself. Lily was that way, never wise enough to heed other experiences and advice.

Besides, what sort of wisdom did Emily have that Lily didn't? A lot, if you asked Emily.

A year ago, Lily would never have let her emotions for Snape override her logical musings. Lily had always been very logically inclined, and all logic pointed to Snape's constantly darkening soul. Emily was sure Lily loved Snape, she just didn't know it yet. And of course Snape loved her as well, but that didn't mean he knew what was best for her. If they ever formed a romantic relationship, Emily was sure it would end in shambles.

Just as Josie and Frederick's relationship had ended. In shambles was an understatement. The understatement of the century, in fact.

Emily had suffered for sure, after Josie's death. There was no reason to think otherwise. She still did not understand death, but she was coming closer and closer to the truth. It was elusive and could perhaps never be attained. But the more people died in her life, the more she would want to, need to, understand.

McGonagall had told Emily of her mother's suicide in her office. Emily had known it was only a matter of time before her mother attempted suicide again, it was just the question of whether or not she was successful, and this time she was. Mission accomplished.

Emily's grandmother had been devastated, but Emily had not cried. An agonized, starving worm ate away at her heart greedily. Madison still did not understand anything about death, and so she had gone along, arranging her food in separate, curved lines, drawing her art, thinking mummy was away on vacation. She didn't know how permanent that vacation was.

Nona was not to blame. Emily's mother was incorrigible, would have attempted suicide countless more times had this time been in vain. Emily's grandmother would have, in fact, probably deemed it necessary they invested in a full-time psychiatric ward had this time not been successful.

Emily loved her mother, and hated her mother in equal amounts. She understood the predicament, but still couldn't understand it. She knew her mother couldn't do anything other than what she did. She was not capable of sane thought, rational thought.

What did Emily know? She was of sane mind only. She could merely muse.

The viewing was closed coffin. Her mother had hung herself from the rafters in their home, and her grandmother had chose not to have any sort of cover-up applied. Nona had stayed home with Madison, who had been innocently rearranging the furniture when they left for the funeral.

"You think mummy will like the sofa there, or there?" she had asked Emily, pointing to the two contestant locations.

"Mummy will love it anywhere," Emily had replied sadly, her thin fingers gripping the cold door handle.

There had been no one at the funeral, just Emily and her grandmother. The trees in the graveyard hung low with snow and ice, like the branches of a vineyard, heavy with ripened grapes. Her mother's gravestone consisted of a small white block with her name and years of life engraved in curly script. She was lowered into the cold ground and her grandmother had wailed with the whipping wind.

_Cecile Tiwlip Leach_

_March 9, 1937- January 9, 1976_

So many funerals. Emily could count the number of funerals she had been to in her life on one hand. Her grandfather's funeral when she was seven. Then her father's when she had been nine. And then Josie's, just a couple weeks ago. And now her mother's. She felt a little sick to her stomach as a wiry curl floated around her nose in the air. Her grandmother gripped her wrist tightly with her thin, bony, knotty hand.

She was an orphan.

Her grandmother was 65. She had been born in 1911. She was in relatively good health, but who knew who was going to die next? Emily could not support Madison and herself for several more years. She felt nauseous again for a fleeting second and then squashed the feeling.

So there she was, standing in the dormitory alone, in bare feet and one of her mother's old nightgowns. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling goose bumps pepper her arms. Her mouth tasted stale, the way mornings tasted. She swallowed a few times, and crawled back into the bed, which had grown cold with her absence.

She didn't care about Lily. She didn't care about anyone

She felt embraced by the cold sheets.

A/N: Thanks to my readers and reviewers. Comments welcome.


	19. Breakfast in Love

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Nineteen: **Breakfast in Love

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

"_Fools in love. Are there any other kind of lovers?" –Inara George _

_Friday, January 30, 1976_

_3 a.m. _

Severus brewed.

His brow was furrowed; sweat crawled between his hair follicles. His eyes were bloodshot and watering from the noxious fumes billowing from the several cauldrons he had over flame.

The list the Dark Lord had given him was consuming his life. The potions were difficult in ways he never thought possible. Some had even only been constructed in theory. His schedule was now formed around the potions simmering in the Room of Requirement, for each potion was so specifically demanding that if any particular brewing or setting times expired, the concoction would be spoiled.

The brewing fascinated him: all of the new things he was discovering about standard ingredients from the instructions were new, things his professors had never thought to tell him before. The ancient potions masters were brilliant, and a lot of modern day wizards would do well to take a leaf out of their books. Severus, who routinely wrote in his textbooks anyway, soon had a sixth-year potions text full of his own handwriting, cramped into the margins and between lines.

As he mashed some damiana petals and water into a paste, his mind wandered back to his birthday. Saloma had not, after all, thrown him a birthday party like he had told Lily. Instead, he had spent most of the day alone, in his bedroom, brooding over the decision of a lifetime. If only he could have another year to make the decision, to make the right choice.

"_Severus, the Dark Lord is waiting," Saloma had said to him. She was sitting at the foot of his bed, drawing circles with her pale fingers on his dark green comforter. It was high noon and although they had no formal plans to go see the Dark Lord that day, he knew she could arrange just about anything at just about any time. "He is anxious to have you in his fold."_

_Severus wondered how she knew this; it wasn't as if the Dark Lord cared at all what Saloma thought or said, and he could guarantee the Dark Lord did not even look at her during meetings. She probably only knew this because her father was much closer to the Dark Lord than she. _

_Severus had sneered at her, and got off his bed to stand in front of his window. Out of it he could see the ice covered lake; a few people ice-skated close to the edge. Couples held hands snugly, and a few did lovely spins further out. The lake was frozen solid straight across, and if it wasn't, Dumbledore froze a good six feet of the surface water so people could ice skate. _

"_Severus," she said more firmly. "I'm serious. If you feel like you can't commit, fine, but you are going to need to back out of _everything_."_

_That meant the USDL, his brewing for the Dark Lord, his pseudo-friendship with Saloma. And his ambitions, his steadfast, obsessive yearnings for power and ultimate knowledge. _

_If only he could have another year: another year to sort things out. It had come rushing at him suddenly, the way a storm may materialize out of clear blue sky sweetened with bird song. It was tangible now, and this scared him more than anything. _

_Oath. Commitment. Eternal servitude. _

_He cracked his knuckles and turned away from the window to stare around the dormitory. Saloma was now lounging on his bed, her black-haired head resting against the décor pillows the house elves tried so hard to fluff and keep lint free. _

"_Don't you have your own bed to lay all over?" he demanded. _

"_Why yes, but other beds are always more comfortable," she simpered. He thought she might have winked at him, but that would just be ridiculous. _

_He couldn't admit his weaknesses to her; she had to figure it out for herself. She would not figure it out, though, because she was so self-absorbed. She understood no one, and never bothered reading anyone's emotions. He would have to implant them in her mind. _

_Why hadn't he thought of this before? Saloma had no brainpower; she would never be capable of occlumency, and she would have no idea he was performing legilimency on her. _

_He turned back to look at her; she was staring at her perfectly bred hands, all long and cold and ivory colored. Her nails were trimmed and glossed; even from this distance he could see the dull sheen they reflected off the half-lit chandelier. _

_Legilimins, his brain muttered; his wand was pointed at her underneath his robes. _

_He observed her mind; it was not very interesting, not at all like the few times he had dared perform the spell on Lily. He quickly set to work, implementing ideas complimentary to his own in her mind. She turned her hands over and over in front of her face, completely oblivious. But her eyes seemed to be softening. He listened to her new ideas, the screws of her brain twisting into revolutionary conceptions. _

_Why should he have to become a Death Eater this birthday? He _is_ older than everyone else in his year: the others would not be required to turn until the summer at the earliest. She was sure, the Dark Lord being who he is, so soft at heart, would understand. No, she would work it all out for him. _

"_Severus," she suddenly said, standing up. He swiftly ended the incantation. "I think, if I appeal to the Dark Lord in a certain way, he will grace you a year. But I'm sure I will only be able to get you one year." _

_She was already moving towards the door, her footsteps leaving prints of determination on the carpet. _

"_I will send you something later tonight, confirming this. But I am sure he will be gracious; he always is."_

_Severus just nodded. She closed the door with a click._

Severus spread the paste with clean hands into the belly of a pure gold, virgin cauldron he had found buried in his storeroom. He made sure he used every bit of the paste, and that there was not a single uncovered portion of cauldron.

She had sent him something later that evening, around eleven. Her arrogant, auburn owl had come to the Room of Requirement with a single piece of parchment with two words written on it in unrecognizable handwriting.

**One Year. **

He had pinned it to a corkboard the Room had generated, and he stared across the room at it now. Underneath it he had tacked up a calendar with pictures of the twelve most attractive witches in all of Britain. He had stolen the calendar from Evan Rosier. A lovely, curly blonde with eyes the size of galleons and a mouth the color of pink azalea stared back at him. He crossed each day off the calendar as it passed, counting down the days of freedom he had left.

335.

He poured a measured amount of ice-cold milk of magnesia into the cauldron, making sure not to disrupt the paste. He placed it carefully on a few glowing embers and busied himself with other ingredients. After he had gotten everything in order for the next morning (the milk and paste had to set for twelve hours before anything else could be added), and after he had modified the other couple of potions he had settling, he left the Room of Requirement and headed through the dimly-lit, seventh floor corridor.

Today was Lily's birthday. He imagined her sleeping sweetly underneath her blankets, warm and soft to the core. She would awake to Audra tapping gently on her window, with a note telling her to meet him outside her common room. Then he would celebrate her birthday with her. But now, he needed sleep, even if it was for the few hours he had allotted himself.

**

At seven a.m. he woke, got dressed, and dispatched Audra to Lily's dorm with a note telling her to wake up and meet him. Then he made his way up to the Gryffindor common room.

When he reached the Fat Lady, she was just coming out, carrying her schoolbooks and looking very sleepy. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and her eyes were a bit puffy, but he didn't care. He grinned at her, and wished her a happy birthday. He presented her half a dozen sugary pink lotuses in bloom, and she smiled widely and kissed him on the cheek.

"What are we doing, Sev?"

"Come on," and he grabbed her hand and led her down to the fifth floor, and into a medium sized room with beautiful bay windows looking out over the white brilliance of the morning. In the center was a dining table with more lotus blooms in a vase, and a lovely place setting for two.

He pulled out a chair for her and urged her to sit. Then he sat across from her, looking pleased with himself. A couple house elves bustled in and began serving them precursors to what was going to be a very satisfying breakfast.

"Severus, what on earth?" She grinned as she drank a tall glass of orange juice.

He smiled sheepishly back at her. "I arranged for a couple of the house elves to make us breakfast for your birthday. They were more than ecstatic to do it."

"Well of course," she exclaimed, delighted as a house elf spooned some fruit into her bowl. "Coffee?"

"Absolutely, miss," the smallest one squeaked, and soon Lily was sipping on coffee made exactly the way she liked it.

"Severus, this is fantastic." She popped a chunk of pineapple into her rosebud mouth and chewed slowly. Fresh, muted light poured into the small, hidden room he had found a couple weeks ago and Severus did indeed feel very pleased with himself. He was capable of blatant romance every now and then.

They finished the fruit and the house elves weighed down the table with eggs and bangers, fish and tomatoes, potatoes and toast. They ate in relative silence, but the food was amazing, even better quality than usually served in the Great Hall.

Lily stared up at him over her fork, playfulness glinting in her eyes. His heart clenched a little; her surprised happiness was what he had arranged all this for. When they were done, they leaned back in their chairs and stared around the room contentedly.

"Severus, this room is gorgeous," Lily remarked.

It was indeed. Stained glass filled the windows, and it appeared the room jutted out away from the castle, so that skylights allowed the occupants of the room to look up and out of the ceiling. Right now, the sky was a pearlish-white, threatening more snow.

"How did you find it?"

"You would be amazed how many rooms there are in Hogwarts," Severus explained. "You just have to be willing to explore beyond the academic hallways."

"Oh, I'm sure," Lily replied. "I just always assumed Dumbledore didn't want us wandering around the castle."

"He has never said anything to me," Severus replied. "I don't think he cares. I think he knows most of what goes on around Hogwarts."

Lily drank some more coffee and stared at the intricate, delicately constructed windows. He wanted to share breakfast with her every morning like this. He loved watching her eat; it was so sweet and innocent and carnal, the way she slid the sausage off the prongs of her fork and into her mouth. He could just imagine her tongue moving the pieces of meat around, tasting ever corner and spice on the surface of the food. And then she swallowed; the food would slide down her throat and her throat would make that little contracting motion that everyone's throat made when they ate.

The house elves began to clear away the dishes, and Lily wiped her mouth with a napkin and began to get ready to leave. He stood up too and reached into his pocket for the gift he was planning on giving her. It was an old, old silver locket his great-grandmother had been given from her courtier when she had been Severus' age, and she had passed it along in her will to him when she had died several years ago. He had always known he had wanted to give it to Lily.

It was tarnished, and several flowers and other trinkets were etched into the surface. He had found a wonderfully delicate silver chain at the jewelers in Hogsmeade and had put the necklace into a tiny velour box with creaky metal hinges and a plush velour pillow for the jewelry. He pulled it out of his pocket and grasped it firmly in his hand.

"Thank you Severus," she said to him. She was standing in front of him now, holding his wrists in her hands. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his hollow cheek lightly. "This was awfully sweet, the best thing you have ever given me. I just like to spend time with you, even if it's simple time like this," and she waved her hand at the quickly cleared table.

He squeezed the small box in his hand tighter.

"I will see you later, okay?"

She left wordlessly, and he hadn't given her the necklace. Why hadn't he given it to her? He merely needed to close the small gap of space between her hips and his groin and shove the box in her hand.

He hadn't given it to her because he was afraid she would reject it, that she would not want it. He could just imagine the locket resting between her breasts, the thin, shimmery chain dipping into her fluffy clavicle. Why wouldn't she want it? Of course she would want it! What girl wouldn't want a necklace?

Severus shoved the box back into his pocket in anger and left the room to go to his first class.

**

_Sunday, February 15, 1976_

_Evening_

_317 days_

Severus sat in the library with Lily; they were working on their research project for Slughorn, and had piles of books and piles of notes between the two of them. In order to exchange ideas, they had to yell over the tower of intellectual material. They were hidden away in a corner of the library though, insulated from Madam Pince by rows and rows and stacks and stacks of books. It was their routine nook when they studied together in the library, and they were almost guaranteed peace and quiet.

He still had not given her the necklace, and the further and further time got away from her birthday, the more awkward it would be to give the necklace to her. He imagined her on the other side of the text wall, biting her lip, noting in her composition book with a pencil anything she could find that might be helpful when they got into the lab. He was inspired by her drive, although he too persisted in much the same way as she when it came to academics.

Severus had come to discover he was fourth in their 1977 class. Lily was first, Dexter Adams was second, Jane Cabrera (another Ravenclaw) was third, and he was fourth. James Potter was fifth, much to Severus' satisfaction, although Severus was not too arrogant to think Potter might not pull ahead of him any time before they graduated. Severus was very content being fourth in his class, however, and did not try to compete with Lily, Dexter or Jane. Being in the top five of a Hogwarts graduating class said scores about ones intelligence, and Severus was sure he would have no difficulty securing any position, be it in the academic or working, field.

He was penciling a few numbers into his logbook when he heard approaching female voices; he immediately began to feel annoyed.

Severus recognized their voices as they moved closer towards them between the aisles. It was Judith Chester, Rebeca Nordyke and Tori Shelsher from his Slytherin class, and while they were not nearly as poisonous as Jezzy, he fancied them not coming any closer to his and Lily's abode. His wishes were not granted.

Lily glanced up when they rounded the last corner, and then looked back down at her work quickly.

"Severus," Tori said, in a semi-playful tone. "Didn't fancy seeing you here in our study spot." She emphasized the word "spot".

Severus nodded sullenly at them all and Lily just smiled down at her composition book.

Tori stood there, considering for a few moments. "Mind if we join you?"

"Actually-" Severus started, but Lily interrupted him.

"No, of course not," and she set to work clearing the workspace of the mountainous pile of texts and parchment rolls.

"You know, Severus? I think it would do you good to be a little bit more polite." The three girls settled around the table and pulled out their respective study material. They sat in relative silence, the only sounds being quill scratching and light, contended breathing. The occasional page turn accompanied their symphony of studying. Suddenly, Tori started talking directly to Lily.

"So, I heard you and Leach are on the rocks."

"Yeah," Lily replied, not looking up from her work.

"What happened?"

"Why do you care?"

Tori just shrugged and started doodling on the side of her parchment. Severus watched her suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. "Just curious. I didn't think you all would fight and be driven apart, especially not after what happened over Christmas."

"Emily prefers to be alone," Lily responded succinctly. "Always has, always will. She will never change."

"No _wo_man's an island," Tori replied.

"Do you even know who wrote that?" Lily demanded. Severus knew how much she hated when people alluded to authors they had never read or heard of in their life.

"Johnny Donne," Tori answered, doting two i's and crossing a t on her parchment with a flourish of her arm and quill. "Would you like me to recite the rest of it?" She looked up at Lily with big, comical eyes.

"I suppose not," Lily said, looking at Tori suspiciously.

"Just because you are a muggle-born doesn't mean you are the only one privy to muggle literature," Tori explained matter-of-factly, with an air of geniality. "My mum, being a muggle, has a PhD in medieval literature. Therefore, I am well versed in most muggle authors and their respective work, although let me tell you they are not nearly as brilliant as some of the wizard writers."

"That is all fine and well, but muggle writers created their genius not with the aid of magic, but with their own _plain_ minds," Lily enunciated sarcastically. A silent _thank you very much_ was tacked onto the end of _minds_.

"Who ever said muggles had plain minds?" Tori looked mildly affronted. "I wouldn't want to insult you, or Rebeca, or Judith, both who are muggle born, and why would I want to insult my mum, who I love dearly, or Severus' dad?"

Severus snorted in contention. "I don't care if you insult my father! I have probably already said everything you could say in negative respects to him anyway."

"That's all very well, Severus," Tori replied, feigning a concerned attitude.

"You like to read, Lily?" Rebeca asked gently underneath her heap of devil's chocolate curls.

"Yes," Lily replied shortly. She could not, for the life of her, remove herself from the defensive, but Severus understood. These were Slytherins she was talking to, after all.

"What sort of books?"

"Mainly muggle literature," Lily replied, staring down at her parchment.

"You are going to have to read some other stuff," Tori interceded. "I have some books I would be more than happy to lend you."

Lily stared at her suspiciously again, as if to ask Tori silently what her ulterior motive was.

"We aren't going to study like this again," she started to say.

Tori stayed silent. She just stared at Lily oddly, and Severus felt Lily's steely resolve begin to fray underneath the stare of the sort-of-cute looking girl from Slytherin. Severus was sure Tori was thinking a lot of conflicting thoughts, and it was probably good her Slytherin mouth was staying shut.

"Can you guys please just shut up?" Judith suddenly said. Her eyes were boring into the crease of her opened muggle studies textbook and she held her head between her two hands stressfully. "I have an exam tomorrow and I would really like to study this material; last exam was on muggle literature, not this one."

"What are you studying about?" Lily asked. Severus was sure she was intrigued that a Slytherin was taking an advanced muggle studies class, even if the Slytherin in question was a muggle-born.

"Calculus," Judith said through gritted teeth. "Honestly, it is the most ridiculous fucking subject ever and I can't wait until we are over this unit."

"Why are you taking muggle studies?"

"That is what I'm studying," Judith replied, staring at Lily as if she had six sets of ears and they were all lined up, one on top of the other, on the sides of her head. "Anyway, the point is for you all to shut the bloody hell up!"

"Go somewhere else, Chester, if you can't accompany a little bit of playful banter along with your studies." Tori said, pseudo-seriousness edged around her voice.

"Playful banter?" Lily asked scornfully. "I doubt it."

"Quiet," Judith snapped.

"She's usually very sweet," Tori mock-whispered to the rest of the table.

Lily and Judith both rolled their eyes, but Tori stayed quiet after that.

**

_Dinner, same evening_

Severus was sitting with his classmates, enjoying the steak roast and potatoes on his plate. Across from him sat Judas, and next to him sat Tori, who was staring at him intermittently until finally he stared back at her with a blatant purpose.

"What do you want?" he asked her slowly, boring his black tunnels of eyes into her blue ones.

She just shrugged and turned back to her own roast; Judas started looking back and forth between the two of them suspiciously.

"Is there something going on between you two?" His rodent-like nose sniffed the air around him for a scandal, the whiskers quivering with scent and stimulation.

"Severus has to get over his Lilikins before anything between him and any other person can transpire," Jezebel remarked from two seats to the left of Severus.

"You know Jezzy," Evan remarked from across the table, chewing on some mashed potatoes. "You are awful jealous of Lily Evans."

"Evan," Jezebel explained patiently. "I am _not_ jealous of that little skank mudblood."

Evan just ate his mashed potatoes silently.

"Did you hear me?" Jezebel demanded across the table.

He didn't respond.

"Evan Rosier!" she screeched. Tori and Virginia, who sat on the other side of Judas, looked wide-eyed and alarmed. "Evan Murdock Rosier! Respond!"

"Your middle name's Murdock?" Judas snorted down the table to Evan.

"The last time I checked, Avery," Evan replied calmly. "Your middle name was Xavier."

"How do you know that?" Judas demanded through gritted teeth.

"Judas," Virginia said. "It is not that big of a deal. All of us purebloods have fucked up middle names. Severus isn't even a pureblood and his _first_ name is horrendous."

"Thank you, Virginia," Severus said with bile.

"Anything to include you in the house dynamics, Sev," she winked. Severus cringed when she used Lily's pet name for him. And then he cringed at himself for allowing Lily to have a pet name for him. If any of those sitting around him knew about that…

"Anyways, like I was saying," Jezebel continued, tossing her blonde ringlets over her shoulder. "Severus is way too obsessed with Evans, and quite frankly, I think there needs to be an intervention on his behalf. I mean she's a mudblood, for Merlin's sake. How is he ever going to get what he wants when he keeps tagging along after her?"

"Jezebel," Tori said across the table. "Could you keep the negative commentary to a minimum? I have asked you about that before-"

"And I don't really care, Shelsher," Jezebel replied. "Do you think I care how your little _mudblood friends_ feel? Do you honestly think I care if I hurt their _feelings_?"

"You should, seeing as how we are all Slytherins here," Tori said vehemently.

Jezebel just snorted and narrowed her icy eyes at Tori, and then she turned them to Rebeca and Judith, who sat a little bit further down, voluntarily having removed themselves from Jezebel and Co. A small smile of condescension graced her bow-shaped lips. Then she turned back to her plate and began stirring her mashed potatoes into the pools of gravy that had gathered around the edges of the dish.

Tori turned her eyes back towards Severus and stared at him in defiance. Her mouth was set and her eyes were laced with determination. He spent the rest of dinner ruminating over Tori Shelsher, and why she had said the things she said to Lily in the library.

Apparently Lily had spent most of her dinner thinking the same thing, for this was what she wished to talk about as they walked around the frozen lake. They both held their wand tips alight, so as to see one another's faces and the path ahead of them.

"What on this earth did she mean in the library, Sev?" Lily demanded as soon as they began to circle the lake. "I don't want to have study sessions with her!"

Severus had never interacted much with Tori Shelsher beyond academics; sure she was a good student to study with in a couple of his classes, but beyond that he did not care, just as he did not care about most of his other classmates. Her interest expressed towards Lily confused him, though, just as much as it confused and disturbed Lily. Maybe she wasn't even interested at all in Lily; maybe he was in fact merely hypersensitive to things like that.

"I don't know, Lily," he responded in frustration. The light from his wand pulsed and throbbed slowly. "Stop for a second."

They halted on the path, cleared of the knee-deep snow that had been falling the last few days. More of it fell now, and a few clumps were caught in her long, cherry colored eyelashes. He turned her pale face towards his and bent down and kissed her mouth sweetly, the way a flame kisses a candlewick. Her lips obliged and responded hungrily, moving in tandem with his own and soon they were pressed closed together, arms thrown around each other's necks. Her hand still held her wand and the light from it glared into his closed eyelids; red color worked furiously into his eyes and he pressed his fingers into the mass of hair at the nape of her neck.

He reached up and grabbed the wand out of her hand and threw it into a snow bank. Then he held her back in his embrace and gracefully and slowly lowered her to the snow-covered ground. He pressed himself on top of her, vaguely aware of the fact he might be suffocating her, but she did not seem to care. She prodded her tongue up into his mouth urgently. The heat from her body and the cold from the walls of snow on either side of them set his nerves on fire and he rolled over into the icy wetness, pulling her on top of him. The snow melded to his back and formed a cave in which they could be alone and warm and wet. Her drenched hair hung around him in tangled ropes and she began breathing heavily.

Little whimpers escaped her mouth, whimpers he had never heard before. He wanted to hear them again and so he pressed more insistently and she responded with animalistic, guttural moans and cute, supplicating, whimpering insistence.

They stayed that way until they were practically shivering with cold. They stood up and realized they had melted a large circumference of snow around them; they found their wands in the whiteness, still glowing loyally, and then set off up to the castle, hand in hand, dripping with water and ice because neither of them wanted to dry up with magic what they had soaked themselves in out of love.

A/N: Comments welcome.


	20. A Werewolf

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty: **The Werewolf

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

February ended and March rushed in, windy and gray and cold. It didn't snow anymore; the landscape was frozen to itself and reflected the constant silver-white sky. Trees refused to bud and when it rained it poured, drenching the moors and softening the ice on the lake so it glaringly transposed the bleak air. Birds began to sing in the morning, but very reluctantly, and seemed to sputter out halfway through their song, retreating back into their little bird burrows.

I felt oddly acquainted with life now; sure, I only had one friend to my name, where three months ago I had been wealthy, and so I should be despairing. But I did not despair. I did not even really care. This lack of care ran through me like a chord; all that mattered to me now was my schoolwork. I hardly thought of anything else. Honestly, what else was there to think of?

Severus?

Our relationship was simple. We periodically snogged and I wasn't too sure what I felt like when we did this. I certainly wasn't indifferent, but I wasn't sure how much the kissing and touching and handholding affected my emotions and mentality. Did I love him? I was certain he loved me, but what did that mean? I thought maybe I did love him, but weren't those in love absolutely sure? I should not be questioning my emotion, that's for certain. Anyway, what sort of asinine idea was the one of a baby Death Eater and a muggleborn girl entertaining a romantic relationship? It was _simply asinine_.

I was still nervous.

Most days I studied, writing a teeny bit. Mary, who stumbled upon my papers every now and then lying around on my bed, was nosy enough to read the typed bits, messy and blotched with errors. She told me on several occasions I should send my work in to the Prophet to be published, but a lot of what I wrote was dispensable, and Mary just did not understand that the Prophet would not publish critiques of the very government and organizations which clearly ran and funded it in the background.

At times I felt lonely, although I couldn't confess that even to myself, for I was possessed of too much pride. I could have approached Emily and attempted reconciliation, but there were several superficial things getting in my way.

Firstly, I hardly saw the termination of our friendship as my fault; the girl was miserably self-possessed, and had apparently harbored the feelings she expressed to me for several weeks before making them known. How was I expected to work with this? She did not want to be friends with me anymore, and I no longer cared. **I no longer cared.**

Secondly, she had been entirely preoccupied with Morgan Kent as of late, and had even started sitting at the Ravenclaw table during mealtime. They were completely sickening, flirting with one another, staring into each other's eyes, playing with hair, holding hands in the hallways. I had never imagined Emily to be the girl whose character was completely warped by her romantic relationships, but I had clearly misjudged her. She was even playing friends with girls like Emmeline Vance and Jane Cabrera and Hestia Jones. I no longer felt welcome at Ravenclaw's study groups, not ever since Remus and Emmeline both told me on separate occasion that Emily was planning on attending with Morgan, who had invited her.

Emily completely ignored me in the halls and in classes. She acted as if the bed I slept in in the dormitory was empty, that no one had slept there in months. Sometimes, especially in the days immediately following our fight, I had tried to catch her eye in the Common Room or Great Hall; now I rarely, if ever, saw her in the Common Room, and she was always preoccupied with the Ravenclaws during meal times. At first I had been hurt even more by her choice to disregard my presence, but I soon became embittered towards her, giving her the same treatment she gave me. It may have been childish, but I wasn't concerned with this in the slightest and began to doubt more and more each day that we would or could ever reconcile our differences.

Emily's growing interest in the Ravenclaws not only gave Black and I something to share by way of grumbling complaints, but also completely juxtaposed Vernette Ziegler's increasing tendency to talk to me between classes and her wish to spend time in the Gryffindor common room. She was certainly worlds smarter than her Hufflepuff contemporaries and I was very interested in what had gone over during her sorting. I would not consider her a very close friend by any means, but she was certainly better than nothing and was always eager and willing to spend time with me. We even began studying together, and I soon discovered she was very adept at Divination and Charms, and while I certainly held no interest in the former, she rivaled my own expertise in the latter.

"Why are you spending so much time with that girl?" Severus had asked me one day after dinner. Netta had run up to talk to me as Severus and I were heading out of the Great Hall towards our walk.

"She's nice," I said.

Severus' face spasmed a little bit, and I was slightly alarmed. He opened his mouth once and then shut it, seeming frustrated.

"What's the matter?"

He opened his mouth again and then snapped it shut, shaking his head back and forth mutely.

"Okay," I said slowly, concern wrinkling my forehead. "That was odd."

"_Vernette Ziegler_ is odd," Severus choked.

"How do you know anything about her?"

"I just think it's a bit odd a Hufflepuff wanting to hang around Gryffindors so much," he shrugged.

"Not really," I replied. "Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are on very good terms. Slytherin is backward."

"Slytherin is not backward."

"I contest that point."

"Fine."

"You don't want to argue?"

"Of course not."

"Are you feeling alright?" I teased, searching his forehead for fever.

He pulled my hand away from his forehead and kissed the palm of it. I smiled shyly up at him, and he twined his fingers through mine and dropped our hands, so they dangled between our forms, together loosely and tightly, loosely and tightly.

I also received a letter from my mother early in March, longer and more detailed than usual. It contained news, which by no means excited me.

Petunia was to be married that August, to a man named Vernon Dursley.

I was told that I was to be one of Petunia's bridesmaids in the wedding. I had no idea what had gotten into Petunia, but I was not thrilled about this in the slightest. I dreaded more information to come, as my mother had promised me.

I imagined what her fiancé looked like: he was three times her size in girth and had a dunces' face. My mother had told me in the letter they had met in the fish market in New Mills, he had asked her to lunch and the rest was history.

My mother did not seem concerned that they had only just met in January, so I didn't waste my time thinking about it. She even told me the size of Petunia's diamond (two carat) and said she expected the marriage to be a successful and fulfilling one.

I just couldn't get over the fact I was to be one of the bridesmaids. There was no other option. My mother would be very hurt if I refused to participate in my own sister's wedding. Petunia, I'm sure, would not care; she had probably been forced into the arrangements by our parents anyway. Our mother and father had most likely refused to pay even one farthing for her wedding was I not in it. However, I could not bring myself to appreciate all of this extra trouble.

And did this mean I was also obliged to include Petunia in my wedding party? This introduced binaries that I did not wish to ever have to think about. If I were to ever have a wedding, it would be a Wizard's wedding, and she would never wish to be in it; she would rather die than be in it, I was sure of this.

Besides, I did not wish to have a huge wedding; I would rather have a small wedding, with just a couple bridesmaids. Months before, when Josie had still been alive, and when I had still been on good terms with Emily, they had taken up the larger part of my wedding party. There was still a slot in it for my groom's sister, if he had any.

But now, this ideal was completely shattered and disrupted, and I found myself imagining girls like Netta Ziegler, girls I shared no special bond with, filling the places in my wedding party. It was disturbing to think I had no close girl friends, that I was becoming more and more estranged every single day. And bits and pieces of me would prefer it no other way. I didn't think I could stand another death like Josie's, a wrenching and windy, blustery experience. A hurricane, stirring up the silt at the bottom of a depthless trench.

I spent the larger part of January and all of February grappling with myself over Arabella, and whether or not I should go and visit her. A huge part of me wanted to more than anything, just to see bits and pieces of Josie in her. They looked so much alike that I knew any visitation would open up brand new avenues of pain, but I saw a visit to Arabella as another step in acceptance of Josie's death. Besides, didn't Arabella deserve this as well? She was too young, I thought, to understand why I might not wish to come and visit her. She may be hurt by my absence, for I'm sure she knew I knew she was here. She may have even been the vehicle behind my knowledge of presence, although I couldn't know this for certain.

In fact, it probably wasn't even that likely: Dumbledore was known internationally as a man who, despite his unfailing brilliance, did have a rather unhealthy tendency to meddle and nose in other people's healing processes and general business. He most likely considered it necessary that I involve myself with Arabella Figg in order to grieve the appropriate way. He could not, however, make me visit the girl. By permitting me intelligence of her whereabouts, he merely made me curious.

I was sure one day soon I would visit Arabella; I just wasn't ready yet.

I wasn't ready to let go of Josie, no matter how far gone she already was, spinning through purple galaxies, grazing hazy clouds of comet's debris with her cold, stiff fingers, tasting the sweet nectar of death and life. Living and dying simultaneously, like a benevolent wraith of cosmic proportions, whispering always in my head.

_Tuesday, March 16, 1976_

_Late Evening _

I was in the common room, close to a window in the corner, secluded away from the rest of the general chatter and interaction. I had dragged a table over to the plush chair I was sitting in, and my potions books and notes were spread over the surface of it. Every now and then I glanced out the window and up into the clear, star-strewn night. A huge and cruel moon presided over all of Hogwarts. Its light crept into every crevice, no matter how small, and the grounds reflected the radiant light, which illuminated even the smallest blade of grass.

I meticulously adhered to my research; my composition book was now almost entirely full of my neatly penciled calculations and observations, all carried out in the lab underneath Slughorn's watchful eye, which was not that watchful at all. I had discovered several new things already in the lab, unbeknownst to him, and now guarded them secretly, as if they were tiny treasures I must collect in order to succeed. I wanted to publish my own research, not research under his name.

I paused for a moment, and got up and stretched, moving closer to the window. The moon really was fantastic looking, luminous and gigantic, hovering just above the highest mountain point. And then suddenly I remembered something arbitrary and odd.

The moon?

I spun around and scanned the common room, searching for them. My eyes searched even the darkest corners, probing the shadows to reveal their forms. But they were not anywhere. I snapped my eyes back to the moon, and it glared down at me, smirking, hiding a potentially destructive, earth-shattering secret.

I turned towards the boy's dormitory stairs and headed slowly upward, not worried about anyone wondering where I was going. I was the sixth-year prefect after all: I could generally do as I pleased without question.

The hall was dark, all but one low-burning lamp having been extinguished. I crept to the last door in the hall, the sixth year dorms, and knocked lightly.

"Come in," I heard faintly, and so I pushed through.

Patrick Davies was lounging on the far bed, reading_ The Children of Dynmouth_. He smiled at me and sat up, shoving his book to the side for a moment.

"Hello Lily," he said. "Looking for something?"

"Actually, yes," I replied. "Your dorm mates."

He looked at their empty beds and said nothing. Patrick was so sweet looking, with curly red hair; smaller than the rest of them, even Peter (who had more girth than anything else), he always seemed to me the one they didn't really care about, the one they could take advantage of.

"I don't know where they are," he replied, not meeting my eyes: his bored straight through the carpet.

I tucked a bit of hair behind my ear and started pacing the floor a bit. "Yes, you do," I finally said firmly.

He bit his lip. "I can't tell you," he replied. "You're right, but I can't tell you."

"Patrick, as your house prefect, I am demanding you tell me."

He looked regretful, and opened his mouth, moving it around as if he were speaking. But instead of discernible speech, all that came out was a horrible embodiment of white noise.

"I can't tell you," he reasserted.

"You can't tell me," I repeated dejectedly, my shoulders slumping.

Fine.

"Thanks Patrick," I said as I left the room.

I would go through the tunnel I went through before, when I stalked Potter onto the grounds months ago. I made a pit stop in my dorm, grabbing a jacket and making sure I had my wand, and then I set out, acting as if I were patrolling the corridors.

The halls were dark and empty, and the passageway was dank and cold, illuminated weakly by my lumos. I blasted the ground out when I got to the dead end, and poked my head up very slowly, terrified by what had happened the last time I did this.

But the grounds were clear. I hoisted myself up and onto the moist ground, and dusted off most of the dirt from my hair and clothing. Then I repaired the hole, but stuck a marker there so I could find it later. I stared around the empty, quiet grounds, feeling an odd, premonitory sense of dread. I shivered a little bit.

Where to start? I cursed my nosiness, my inherent need to know everything, _right then_. My eyes did a short circuit of the grounds and collided with the dark forest. If they were anywhere, they would be in there, the symbol of mischievousness and sneaky antics. So I headed in that general direction, moving slowly so as to not disturb any dark, night-roving, psycho creatures.

Like werewolves.

I glanced up at the moon nervously, cursing myself once again. I may regret this sole wandering in the morning but now it was all I could do. I was, after all, already out on the grounds.

All was eerily silent; not even a tree croaked in the breeze, for there was none. I pulled my jacket closer around myself and walked faster, looking back behind me every now and then. The forest loomed over top of me, a tidal wave of terror, waiting to crash atop my frail form and rip my innocence away.

I had never set foot in the Forbidden Forest before, not because it was against school rules, but because the concept of such a brothel teeming with dark, malignant activity terrified me. I leaned against a tree about ten feet from the entrance and stared back at the castle, wondering if maybe I should just give up and return to my common room. Did I really care that much to get Potter and Co. in trouble that I was willing to brave such a dark world?

No.

I pushed off the trunk of the tree and started back up to the castle. I was halfway up the lawn when I heard it.

The terrible, heart-stopping, fear-inducing scream of a werewolf. My third year professor had the scream on record, and had brought it in when we were studying werewolves so we may hear it and be able to identify in future.

It chilled my nerves then, and I whipped my head around to see where I might hide. I was in the middle of the grounds, completely and wholly vulnerable to attack. There was not a single tree to climb in order to evade attack, but not that that mattered for werewolves would do anything to get to their prey.

I would have to make a run for it, and so I broke into it, running as swiftly as I possible could. I had no idea where the werewolf was, but I did not care; I thought maybe if I did not know where it was, it did not know where I was.

This was foolish of me to think, though. Of course the werewolf knew where I was. Its sense of smell was 100 times that of mine.

I heard it's thundering footfalls a little ways to my left, and so I veered off to the right, running as fast as I could, knowing this was all in vain. No one had ever, in the history of wizardkind, outrun a werewolf. It was not done, it was an impossibility. Like trying to outrun a tidal wave. I had bypassed it earlier, but my time had come. The werewolf would rip my throat apart and silence my screams by tearing my vocal chords out. Then he would eat me alive, starting in my stomach and obliterating any intestine and stomach and other organs I had. He would then work upwards into my chest cavity, tearing out my ribs, one by one, and would devour my heart in a single gulp. I would be left there on the grounds, an empty shell of a person, for some innocent first year to happen upon. Two lives would be ruined then, for little first years never forget seeing things like that.

No one would forget seeing carnage like that.

But I must fight for my life. What was I thinking? I may not wish to be an Auror, but I certainly was a fighter. I ran a little further and ducked behind a lone tree. The werewolf rushed past: his sense of sight was not nearly as good as his smell. I peered around the trunk and saw him stop about ten feet ahead of the tree, sniffing the air. His back rippled underneath the moon light, his entire form shook up and down as he breathed deeply in and out the air he had lost running.

I pointed my wand at his back, and whispered one of the spells our third year Defense professor had taught us. It hit him and caused the skin to impress upon his back; the spell moved out across his body like a seismic wave, and his body sagged the teeniest bit.

He swiveled his head around slowly, and caught sight of me underneath the moonlight. His eyes glowed like evil topaz jewels, and his canine teeth hung down like a saber toothed tigers, covered in dripping, yellow salivation. I recalled the foul stench of his breath and shivered, but I waited. I waited for him to attack.

He turned his entire body around slowly. I sent another spell at him. He stared at me for a second across the void of shimmering, tense air. We regarded each other with some sort of warped understanding.

He understood he was about to eat me, and I understood I was about to get eaten.

He charged. I balked and screwed me eyes shut, preparing myself for the blunt force of his body slamming into mine, anticipated the awful pain that was to soon come.

But it never came. Instead, I heard a terrible whining sound. I opened my eyes and saw that same huge stag, the stag I had seen months ago out of the tunnel, attacking the werewolf. The stag lifted the werewolf up into his antlers and hurled him fifty feet away. I didn't see the werewolf land, but I heard the loud thud echo across the grounds.

The stag ran and turned his side towards me and I didn't need to be told twice. I swung myself up onto his back, the only force making this humanly possible being the adrenaline coursing through my veins. And we were off.

I hugged his neck, careful not to pull any of his short bristles out. The fur smelt musty and wonderful, and I would never forget that smell for the rest of my life. His powerful hooves pounded into the ground; I imagined they left deep, deep impressions in the dewy grass.

I soon heard the werewolf behind us, snarling and growling ferociously. I whispered urgently to the stag, begging him to run faster and faster. He dodged around trees, trying to lose the werewolf in the darkness, but the werewolf was much smarter than that, and much quicker too. His claws grazed the stag's romp and his teeth narrowly missed the stag's tail. We could only lose him when suddenly, out of the darkness, the same grim-like dog I had seen before leaped into the air and caught the werewolf by the neck. They both tumbled to the ground, rolling in a mass of claws and teeth and torn fur. My own neck was sore by now, keeping an eye on what was going on behind us. I turned back to the front as we left the two grappling canines in our wake.

The stag ran; he was a magnificent creature, more amazing than anything I had ever dreamed of. He bolted towards the front of Hogwarts and up the steps, and crashed his antlers head-on into the doors. When we were finally in the Great Hall, he slowed to a stop and I disembarked, my legs almost giving out underneath me.

"Lily?!"

I spun around and saw Severus hurrying towards me.

"Severus," I said, collapsing into his arms. I breathed heavily into him, his heady, strong body odor filling my nostrils. He smoothed my hair down slowly, shushing into my ear. I began to sob in great, big convulsive heaves, but it wasn't over yet. Severus suddenly gasped in a breath so big I was sure he became light-headed.

"Potter! Explain yourself!"

What was Snape talking about Potter for?

"Shut up, Snape! Evans! What in bleeding, fucking hell were you doing out there?"

I spun around again, shocked to hear Potter's voice. I looked around for the stag, but Potter was now standing in his place: I had wished to thank him with a hug and a kiss at least.

"Where did the stag go?" I asked innocently, big tears rolling over my cheeks.

"James Potter, explain yourself this instant!" I looked up at Snape, whose usually pale face was flaming red, his eyes huge and terrible to look into.

Potter ran his hand through his hair in ultimate frustration, but disregarded both of the questions thrown at him. "Evans, didn't you learn the last time that you really shouldn't go out onto the grounds on a full moon?"

"What do you mean _last time_?" How did he know I had seen that werewolf before? "And what on this earth is Severus on about?" I demanded.

"For someone at the top of our class, you really are thickheaded," he said, chuckling maniacally, for there really was nothing funny about anything that had happened the entire night. "I know why Snape was outside, but I want to know why _you_ were outside!"

"Severus, you were outside too?" I turned to him, miserably confused, and only getting more confused.

Severus stared down at me, his arms folded across his chest in stubborn anger.

"Severus, answer me!"

"Yes."

"Why were you outside?"

"Because."

"Evans," Potter said, grabbing me from behind. He turned me around and shook me a little bit. "What were _you_ doing outside?"

"I wanted to know where you and everyone else went on nights like this."

"Nights like what?"

"Full moons?"

He snorted contentiously and let go of my arms. He turned away from us and shook his head, his hands on his hips. "You two are perfect for each other, honestly. More perfect than even you know."

"I don't really understand what is going on, so could someone please tell me? I was just attacked by a great, bloody werewolf for Merlin's sake. Forgive me if I'm not thinking clearly at the moment."

"A lot _is_ going on," Potter said slowly, bringing one of his hands up to his mouth in contemplative thought. "I kind of understand what happened, but Snape.."

"Allow me to explain," Severus said, his eyes glinting maliciously, his arms still pretzeled across his chest.

To be continued…

Comments welcome.


	21. Interlude, Sirius Black

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-one: **Interlude, Sirius Black

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

He was so nosy, always trying to find out everything he could about us.

Always sneaking around, like a dirty piece of filth, sticking his great big nose into everything. He reminds me of Kreacher. Reporting back to his master everything he finds. Crawling around under furniture and lamps, getting us in trouble. Hiding behind great big, disgusting tapestries. As if you can't see his feet sticking out at the bottom. He is always willing to immerse himself in the most disgusting of things, just to get us in trouble.

He disgusts me.

James thinks he hates him, but he has no idea just how much **I** _loathe _Severus Snape. No one could hate him more than I do; it is an impossibility. Impossible to hate him more than I do.

I am sure of this.

I had been thinking about it for a while, what I planned to do to get back at him, to get even. I had it all planned out, the situation just needed to arise, the perfect circumstance.

Sometimes I thought maybe it was too extreme, but then he would do something else, something only Snivelly would think to do, and the idea would come flaring back up to of my frontal lobe, twirling around in a great ball of plans, ideas, red and black colored, a twisting ball of schemes out of which my greatest, my most brilliant, were extracted.

He would finally get what was coming to him.

He wanted to know what we did all the time? oh, he would find out.

He would find out, all right.

**He would **_**find**_** out.**


	22. A Werewolf, Part 2

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-two: **A Werewolf: Part 2

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

_Tuesday, March 16, 1976_

_Lunch_

_287 days_

Severus ate the last of his stewed carrots, sipped the milk in his goblet and then got up from the Slytherin table. He was heading off to the library to do some work for one of his independent research studies. He was very interested in the history of potions masters and the methods they used to achieve their fame, and so he devoted much of his study time to this enterprise.

The day was probably one of the first clear, bright days they had gotten since February had ended. Severus glanced up to the ceiling for a second, and relished the deep blue sky and the few clouds being pushed across by an invisible but blustery wind.

Severus was caught in his musings and barely noticed walking into the backs of two other students on the way out of the Hall (he always had a tendency to walk much faster than his fellow students). He dropped his books and muttered a few apologies before realizing whom he had run into. Before he could pick up his things, Sirius Black had scooped them up and held them tightly to his chest.

"I retract my apologies," Severus said silkily. "Give me back my books."

"I don't think so, Snivelly," Black jeered. He was accompanied by Peter Pettigrew, whose eyes gleamed with anticipatory excitement.

"You do realize you act worse than the first years?"

"Is that all you got, Snivelly?"

Severus rolled his eyes. He did not feel in the mood for one of Black's forays into primary school play yard.

"Catch," Black suddenly yelled. He propelled Severus' books back at him and they hit Severus in the stomach, pushing him backwards onto the ground and knocking the wind out of him. When Severus finally regained his composure, Black and Pettigrew were long gone.

Severus stood up abruptly, quite angry about what had happened but resigned to the fact there was nothing he could do about it. He would one up them some other day.

He gathered his books and set off towards the library.

He actually did have a favorite corner in the library, although no one knew about it, not even Lily. It was up a half-enclosed flight of stairs all the way in the north wing of the library. He walked up those stairs into a wholly disused portion of the archives and continued on down the dusty corridor all the way to the end, where a door was set into the wall. He opened it slowly, for it did make an awful creaking noise, and entered quickly into his abode.

He assumed it was once a part of the librarian's private quarters; now the librarian lived with the other staff in the East wing of the fourth floor.

It was a lovely little sitting room: it had a nice iron stove that had only needed to be dusted off, several worn but still plush sofas, a coffee table, a few lamps, and two lovely windows, out of which one could view the Quidditch pitch and beyond that, smoky chimneys in Hogsmeade.

Severus tossed his books down on the coffee table, quickly lit a small fire in the stove and then strode over to the window. He could see the Slytherin team now, practicing around the fluttering flags and goal posts. He turned back to his books, noticing for the first time a slip of paper sticking out of his advanced potions text. He never stuck extra parchment in his books, so he had no idea what it was. He quickly pulled it out.

It read:

**Whomping Willow tonight. At ten.**

Severus glanced up and stared into the brick hearth blankly. He knew almost immediately what this note was about. He was so obsessed with Potter and Black and the rest of them, the antics they got up to, that he almost couldn't admit it to himself. Somehow that slip of paper had made it off Black's person and into Severus' book without Black even knowing, for he so jealously guarded their secret that he would never voluntarily involve Severus. The two boys hated one another absolutely, and so Black could not be aware.

Severus would catch them off guard, would expose their horrendous secret, whatever it was they did, and he would do it that night.

He was almost too excited to study, but he occluded and forced himself to get some work done. After two hours he left and went to the Room of Requirement, where some potions needed tending to. He brewed there for the rest of the night, his eyes intermittently resting upon the calendar of days crossed off. The picture this time was of a curvy, black haired witch with braids hanging down by her ears. She chewed gently on the end of her wand, playful eyes looking up now and then at the camera.

He smirked, as he thought about Evan, who just a few days ago had thrown a rampage around their dorm room, looking for his calendar.

The clock he kept in the room glared 7 pm, then 8, then 9. It seemed ten o'clock would never come, but finally by 9:30 he was done with the potions work for the time being. He cleaned up his workspace, left his books there, and proceeded down to the Great Hall.

He was not nervous in the slightest. He had no idea what to expect, but this did not deter him from his task. He was very determined at this point, almost consumed by it. He slipped through the front doors quietly and welcomed the cool, very subtle wind as it snuck in between his strands of hair, weighed down by the heavy oil and sweat.

He set off in the direction of the Willow, his feet making no sound as they pressed into the ground. He strode purposefully. The Willow grew into sight around a bend, standing still and peaceful against the moonlight. When he came within ten feet of it, it began thrashing angrily, reaching its tentacles to collide with any sort of obstruction.

He stared at it a long time, willing it to stop moving. He must have stood there in the same spot for ten minutes at least, and the Willow still did not lose energy. It kept reaching and reaching; he could have sworn the branches could reach even farther now than when he had first approached it.

And then suddenly it stopped. He stared around suspiciously, but then wondered if maybe the Willow was set on a timer and would eventually stop moving, regardless of someone's presence. He approached it cautiously, and when it did not start moving again, he quickly ran into the cover afforded by its many limbs.

He circled the trunk, slightly confused as to why Black was meeting someone here. Sure, the Willow had always elicited bewilderment from the majority of the student body, for why would Dumbledore feel it was necessary to place a deranged tree on the grounds the same year he and the rest of his class mates started at Hogwarts? Dumbledore, who always had ulterior motives, must have had a reason grander than a superficial one.

He circled the trunk again, and was about to give up when he noticed something odd at the base. The air shimmered slightly in the front of it, as if there was a seam there, a seam in the air. He was nervous to touch it, so he cast a spell.

"Finite incantatum."

Nothing happened. He stared at it some more.

Maybe it was just a glamour? It was perhaps an ill-contrived glamour, or one whose effects had faded over time. He picked up a small twig and chucked it at the shimmery air, and it slid right through and beyond into another dimension.

Severus' interest was piqued now, more than ever before. He was hesitant but determined, and so he bent down on the ground in front of the seamed air. Twigs and rocks dug into his bony knees.

Did he dare stick a part of his body through the air?

He prodded the air with his wand. Nothing happened, and his wand came out from the other side unscathed. So he took a chance.

And stuck his whole face through the air. Beyond the sheet of contrived trunk and grass, there was a black hole large enough for a good-sized man to slip underneath the Willow.

So he did.

There was a tunnel, cool and dank and dark and noiseless. He knew there was light somewhere ahead of him, for a grayish illumination cast rocks into shadow along the dirt floor, and so he crawled. Eventually the tunnel broadened and he could crouch. He inched along the wall, anticipation causing his intestines to flutter. He began hearing odd noises, muffled by the dirt he was encased in, but noises nonetheless. He came to a point where he could stand, and so he began moving faster, driven by an insane curiosity. He was so caught up in the moment he didn't realize someone running up behind him until his arm was yanked back.

"Snape!"

"What are you doing Potter?" Severus demanded. Potter was breathing very heavily, as if he had run a very long distance at a very fast pace.

"Snape, what the hell are you doing down here?"

"I could ask you the very same thing."

"There's no time for that, we have to go," Potter said urgently. He pulled Snape harder backwards, and Snape resisted, digging his heels into the soft, damp earth.

"Snape, let's go!" Potter yelled.

"Fucking step back, Potter!"

"No. We have to go."

"I don't know what you do down here, but I am going to find out right now."

"No, Snape-" Potter pulled harder, and Severus' cloak began to rip, so Potter let go of him abruptly. He fell to the ground and glared up at Potter.

"Snape, you don't understand-"

"I understand enough, Potter. You would do anything to protect you and your little friends, wouldn't you?" Severus stood up and dusted himself off elegantly. Then he started again, towards the end of the tunnel. Potter reached out and grabbed Severus by his long, black hair. Severus' head snapped back and he yelled again in protest.

"Potter, I will hex you," Severus began to say, but Potter hit him over the head with a small boulder that he had found near his feet; Severus dropped to the floor cold.

Severus woke several minutes later, laying on the ground a good ways up the tunnel. Potter had dragged him to the point where they had to half-crouch, and he could no longer pull him forward.

"Snape, you better fucking start walking towards the opening right now."

"Get your bleeding hands off me this instant. When Dumbledore finds out about this, you will be expelled."

"Snape, shut the bloody hell up."

"Don't tell me to shut up, how dare you treat me-"

But his words were swallowed by a gigantic crash at the end of the long tunnel, followed by the awful scream of a werewolf.

All color fled from Severus' face.

"Is that a- a- a-"

"Werewolf? YES! Now fucking move!"

Severus did not need to be told twice this time. He was soon far ahead of Potter, and when he looked back once, Potter was no longer behind him. But he did not care about this. All he cared about was getting to the end of the tunnel. Fuck Potter, if he didn't have enough sense to get out of the tunnel when there was a werewolf on the loose.

Severus could hear the werewolf coming closer and closer, crashing through the tunnel, and Severus finally burst into the night, and the Whomping Willow was still frozen. He ran a little ways and slowed down a bit, ran some more intermittently. He was absolutely terrified: his limbs were shaking.

But then he heard the werewolf explode from the tunnel and into the air. He heard the awful scream and ran and ran and ran. Somehow the werewolf did not manage to catch up to him, and he made it into the Great Hall, where he screeched to a halt and doubled over, his hands on his bent knees, his chest heaving violently out of exertion and awesome fear.

He wasn't in the Great Hall for two minutes before the front doors flung open in a bellowing crash. Severus thought for an insane second that the werewolf had followed him up in to the castle, and felt doomed; then he noticed it was just Lily, riding atop a gigantic stag. Lily flung herself off him and rushed towards Severus, who, although he was amazed and confused to see her, accepted her in his arms nonetheless.

He smoothed her hair down, and then saw something before his eyes he would never have expected. He had accepted the stag's presence as just another part in the evening's odd events, but then the stag began to morph before his very eyes. It began to morph into a tall, spectacled, gangly boy with black hair.

"Potter! Explain yourself!"


	23. Being Saved

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-three: **Being Saved

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

_Wednesday, March 17, 1976_

_A little bit after midnight_

"And here we are," Severus said, his arms _still_ folded across his chest.

"Here we are," Potter replied.

"But Potter- how did you know about all of this? Did Black realize he had dropped the note?" I demanded.

"Something like that," Potter said.

"What do you mean 'something like that'?"

"Well, the thing is, Sirius _did_ know," Potter hesitated for a moment.

"And?"

"He set it all up, with Peter." There were wrinkles around his eyes and his voice shook kind of.

"**What?**"

"You and your friends have gone too far, Potter," Severus began. His voice, surprisingly, was not loud. Instead, he spoke very quietly- pent up anger and rage steamed behind his words, though. "And Dumbledore will not stand for this any longer, I am sure."

Potter said nothing.

"But Sev, I don't think Potter was in on all of this," I said slowly.

"Lily, have you lost your bleeding mind? Of course he was. He's standing there, bold as brass, contempt all over his face!"

Severus was hysterical though. Potter had anything _but_ contempt on his face. I was feeling sort of strange.

"How do you and Black know about that werewolf?" I asked.

Potter hesitated again. He looked at me, then at Severus, then up into the foyer's ceiling, and then back at me.

"Remus is that werewolf," he said finally.

"Lupin is infected with lycanthropy?! Does Dumbledore know about this?" ("Of course he knows about it, you fool," Potter said on the side, rolling his eyes.) "Oh, I can't wait to go and see him. Lily, we are going right now." He started to pull my arm.

"Severus, **no**!" I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. "Potter, tell me what happened tonight. Tell me this instant!"

And suddenly, Potter was explaining:

_The three of them were outside, sitting on the bank of the lake. There was a mini-cave set into the ground where there used to be sloping grass down to the water's edge, but erosion had happened. Now, cover was afforded by a tree and it's roots._

_They were all tucked in there, James and Sirius and Peter. _

_James was staring away across the water; his hair was still in the night and the moon was twice reflected in the lenses of his glasses. Peter was using his wand to practice color spells on blades of grass. Sirius was anxiously creating mounds out of the tacky, grainy sand. _

"_Transmutatio heow rudhira… transmutatio heow naranj… transmutatio heow caeruleus." _

"_It's a nice night," James said absentmindedly, commenting in between Peter's incantations. _

"_Yes," Peter said. His eyes were giddy. "Transmutatio heow albus." He turned a large clump of grass white. _

_Sirius remained silent. His mounds were getting bigger and bigger. He let the sand sift through his thick fingers, and as it fell, it rolled down the mountainous slope in beaded clumps. His legs were pretzeld underneath him and his feet danced to a non-existent tune, but an apprehensive tune nonetheless. _

_Potter leaned back against the wall of cool, moist dirt, unconscious of the beetles crawling in and out of the holes. Next to him, Peter and Sirius' nervous behavior was starting to affect him. He glanced at them both, an irritated sneer gracing his features, and then he abruptly stood up._

"_Do you think the change is done?" he asked impatiently. He started to pace around the small space of sand. Just six feet away the shore lapped rhythmically in curls. _

"_I think we should wait a little bit longer," Sirius said quickly. "A little bit of cloud cover tonight." _

"_You know that doesn't matter," James said, turning back to the two of them._

"_Yeah," Sirius said slowly. "Maybe we should wait a little longer." _

_Five minutes later, James sad they should leave again._

"_I really think we should wait," Peter said. "You know how Remus is during the transformation. He doesn't like us there, at all." _

"_Peter, we've been doing this for a year and a half now. You think I don't know that? It never takes this long for him to transform, I'm going." _

"_No!" Sirius and Peter yelled simultaneously._

"_I'll go," Peter volunteered, standing up quickly. His wand fell into the sand and he knelt to pick it up. "I'll go and check. I have to go first anyway, you know that." _

_James looked between the two of them suspiciously. "What are you two up to?" _

"_Nothing," they said in unison. They shuffled their feet and James narrowed his eyes. _

"_You think I'm stupid? I know when you two are scheming, cause you _aren't _good at it. Tell me what you're up to." _

"_I'm going to check," Peter said quickly, and before James could stop him, he had climbed up to level ground and was gone._

"_Sirius, tell me what is going on." _

"_I honestly don't know what you're on about, James," Sirius said._

_James just snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know how Remus is about his transformations. He doesn't like any funny business." _

"_Yeah," Sirius said awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. _

_They were silent for a little bit and then Sirius spoke._

"_James, I think there is something you ought to know," he said._

"_Finally," James said. "Peter didn't want to jinx all of the rodents in the Shack again, did he? That was a complete disaster last time, Remus was so disgusted he had eaten them all."_

"_No, it's nothing like that," Sirius started. "Um… well… er- the thing is, see, I sort of let slip to Snape about the Willow earlier today."_

"_What do you mean you 'let slip about the Willow'?" James said. He spoke very slowly and his words echoed with ire. _

"_It was all Peter's idea, I swear it," Sirius said urgently. _

"_Sirius, so help me Merlin, if this gets Remus expelled I will never speak to you again." And then he was off running. _

_He ran hard, harder than he had ever run in his life. He transformed so as to run faster and his hooves pounded into the ground. Divots were pressed into the grass behind him and dirt flew up to pelt his rump and so he ran faster. _

_The Willow was still frozen when he got there. Peter must have left early to touch the knot on the base of the tree so Snape could get inside. James transformed back and dove into the base of the Willow. It seemed like forever before he reached Snape, but he finally did and he pulled him back. _

"_Snape!" _

_Snape jerked around and pulled his arm back. A gloating sneer had wrenched his nose up to sit directly between his eyes. "What are you doing here, Potter?" _

"_Snape, what the hell are you doing down here?" James paused here, and rested his hands on his knees so he could catch his breath. He breathed hard, in and out, in and out. _

"_I could ask you the very same question." _

_James half-regained his composure and reached out to grab Snape's arm again. "There's no time for that, we have to go." Snape resisted, digging his heels into the earth like a cat fighting the bath. Sheer determination and will shone in his black eyes. "Snape, let's go!" _

_Snape flung James' arm off of him. "Fucking step __**back**__, Potter!" _

_James looked around himself nervously and listened. "No. We have to go." _

"_I don't know what you do down here, but I am going to find out right now." _

"_No, Snape-"James grabbed his cloak and yanked him back with full force, but the cloak began to rip and Potter released it. Snape fell roughly to the ground and glared back up at him. "Snape, you don't understand-"_

"_I understand enough, Potter. You would do anything to protect you and your little friends, wouldn't you?" Snape was standing up then and examining his cloak for the rip. He brushed all the dirt off and then stepped away further down the tunnel. James, in utter desperation, reached out and yanked at Snape's oily hair. Snape yelled as his head was jerked back. _

"_Potter, I will hex you," Snape said but James bent down and picked up the biggest, heaviest thing within in reach and bonked Snape over the head with it. Snape's eyes rolled backwards and he fell to the ground with a soft thud. _

"_Bloody Snape," James muttered to himself. Then he set to dragging Snape across the floor. He was very light, and though he was so tall, James estimated that he weighed no more than eleven stone. James dragged and dragged him; the dirt was soft and his heels dug into the ground and he was very uncomfortable, but he knew he had to hurry. Remus had surely smelled them by now. _

_He could have used magic, but the werewolf was ultra-sensitive to magic and would be immediately notified of their presence by it. James thought it better to not use magic. _

_Finally, when he reached the point where standing was no longer an option, he kicked Snape in the stomach a few times, albeit gently. He blearily opened his eyes._

"_Snape, you better fucking start walking towards the opening right now." _

"_Get your bleeding hands off me this instant. When Dumbledore finds out about this, you will be expelled." _

"_Snape, shut the bloody hell up." _

"_Don't tell me to shut up, how dare you treat me-"_

_But before he could finish his sentence, a huge, deafening crash sounded from very far away. The werewolf would surely scale the distance in a few short minutes. They were warned by his scream._

"_Is that a- a- a-"_

"_Werewolf? YES! Now fucking move!"_

_Snape was up and crawling frantically before James was finished yelling the last command. James thought it best to turn back and stymie the werewolf, try to give Snape enough time to get out and back up to the castle._

_He transformed and galloped down the tunnel. His hypersensitive animal ears could hear every footfall of the gigantic animal pounding towards him, and he knew when they collided there would be a terrible impact, but he ran faster, charging through the tunnel. He bent his head down so that his antlers were pointing out. The werewolf was running closer and closer and finally when they hit one another, it seemed a seismic wave of power ripped through the tunnel. _

_All James' stag knew then was claws and teeth and growling and terrible breath and matted fur and sticky, poisonous saliva. The werewolf fought tooth and nail to get past him in the tunnel, but James locked his legs into the ground. He knew he and the werewolf just about matched one another in weight and size, but ultimately the werewolf was stronger; the magic behind his form made this possible. Pain ripped through his shoulders and chest as the werewolf raged at his body, and it didn't matter if the werewolf bit him then. His animal blood was immune to the werewolf's magic. _

_His legs were beginning to buckle underneath the werewolf's pressure and finally he collapsed. The werewolf rushed past him and James hurriedly doubled back and pursued him. He heard the werewolf burst free out of the tunnel. James scrambled up after him and stopped dead for a few seconds._

_Snape was long gone; James could barely smell him. The werewolf was very close, and there was something else on the slight, subtle air current. Another scent, a scent he hadn't planned on smelling that night, but a scent he was all too familiar with. _

_Lily Evans._

_A jolt of terror coursed through his arteries, veins, bone marrow then. He had been mildly afraid before, when Snape had been the only body he was responsible for. But now the equation had become drastically more difficult. Variables were being added from all directions and he didn't like it that way. _

_He stopped for a few seconds more to think. No more time could be wasted. So he galloped towards the center of the scents. He ran and ran and made it just in time. He saw the werewolf charging her cowering figure and just two seconds before he would have torn her apart, James' stag bent his head down again and hoisted the werewolf's writhing form clear into the air. The werewolf snarled and flailed his arms and legs around and James flung his form as far away as possible, towards the edge of the forest, and then turned back to Lily, who jumped on his back running. And they were off._

_The werewolf caught up very quickly. James dodged and flitted between obstacles, but the werewolf was soon scraping at his tail and backside. The stag felt no pain in that moment, but James was sure he would be mighty sore later, if they ever made it out of it alive, that was. _

_James felt as if he might stumble; he could imagine what would happen then. His legs would collapse and Lily's body would continue through the air, flying gracefully into the dirt and there the werewolf would devour her whole. But James couldn't let that happen._

_He forced his legs to move quicker, with more strength. She was whispering in his ear, and though he couldn't understand what she said, she said it with the most profound urgency. She did not want to die that night. _

_Suddenly, from the left, a huge dog exploded out of the night and tackled the werewolf. Sirius' dog rolled away with the werewolf, taunting him towards the Forbidden Forest, and James bent his antlers and raced up the front steps and crashed through the doors into the foyer. _

And here we all were.

All of a sudden I started to feel weird. I looked at Potter, and almost couldn't call him Potter anymore. If someone saves your life, are you still forced on last name basis?

"You saved our lives," I said. "You just saved both of our lives."

"I can't believe you are all illegal animaguses," Severus said; disdain peppered his voice. "Another thing I can't wait to reveal to Dumbledore."

"Oh, you won't be revealing anything, Snape," James said, his voice cocky. "You think I wanted you to know our secret? You think if I had any other way, we would be standing here tonight, us three, the two of you sharing what makes the four of _us_ friends? Abso-fucking-lutely not."

Severus just stared at him.

"Sev, don't you understand what just happened? Why do you care about this stupid stuff anymore? _Potter just saved our lives!_"

"I don't care, Lily, that doesn't change who he is," Severus spat. "How can you even believe the lies he spills? He was probably in on the entire thing, and realized last minute he would be expelled, so he backed out and made it look like he was some hero. But he is nothing, nothing better than he ever once was."

"Oh, and like you're the paradigm of virtue! You are the most disgusting thing to set foot in this castle since Voldemort himself!"

"Lily, are you coming?" Severus turned to leave, staring back at Potter with hatred in his eyes. "You serve as witness; I can only hope Potter will be seen as accessory in the crime. Potter just as much admitted the entire ordeal now. I have no idea where Black is at the moment, but it will be very easy to find him once Dumbledore discovers what has transpired."

I turned to go, but was suddenly frozen in my tracks. Potter walked around to face us, his wand pointed outwards, but at no one in particular. Then, he incanted, "Obliviate," and suddenly all memories of James' stag and Black's dog and Peter's rat were wiped from my mind. I only remembered that Black had set Severus up to encounter Remus and that somehow James had gotten there to save him in time.

"Lily, are you coming?" Severus demanded again. I followed him out of the hall, looking back at James curiously. He just stared back, absolutely nothing on his face, his arms folded across his chest guardedly.

"Ah, Mister Snape, and Miss Evans! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore smiled benignly down at us from in between the two gargoyles guarding his office entrance. "Follow me and we can talk more privately in my office."

We settled down on the leather armchairs in front of his desk.

"You are aware there is a werewolf in attendance at this school?" Severus demanded.

Dumbledore said nothing.

"I was manipulated by Black and Potter and the rest of them earlier in the day and was set up to encounter the full grown, psychotic werewolf, none other than Remus Lupin. I have proof that all four of them were involved."

"And what is this proof you are speaking of?"

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. He unfolded it and laid it out on Dumbledore's desk for him to see.

It read:

**Whomping Willow at ten.**

"Ah," he said, holding the note out in front of him. His glasses sat at the end of his nose and his mouth was open just a bit over his beard. "Can you elaborate as to how this serves as proof, Mister Snape?"

"Potter just as much admitted the entire thing just now," I interjected.

"Did he now?" Dumbledore turned to me and surveyed me over his glasses.

"Professor," Severus began, and then he told Dumbledore the entire story. Dumbledore did not appear angry, but I could almost feel heat waves emanating off of him. By the end of Severus' tale, I wanted nothing more than to put as much space as possible between Dumbledore and myself, even though I was not the subject of his anger. I almost trembled.

"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said coolly. "I will take care of everything from here. I wish for the two of you to excuse yourselves to your respective rooms for the evening."

"Well, what are you going to do about all of this?" Severus demanded.

"Mister Snape, the situation really has transcended beyond you now, and so therefore there is really no reason for you to still be here. The same goes for you, Miss Evans. Good night." He said this with such finality that there really was nothing else either of us could have said.

We rose silently and exited the room. When we made it out of the gargoyle staircase, Severus stopped in the hall for a few moments. His cheeks were red with anger, an effect I rarely saw on him; he was usually so good at concealing his emotions.

"Severus, it's going to be okay now," I said.

"No, it's not!" he yelled. "You think it's okay? Seriously?"

I hesitated.

"Lily, you almost died! You were in more danger than I was! And you aren't scared right now, you aren't angry?"

"Of course I'm angry," I said vehemently. "Do you think I'm insane?"

"You just said it was okay, I don't know what to think! Of course it's not okay, you got attacked by a werewolf tonight!"

"Not technically… he never even laid a claw on me."

"That's besides the point. We were both in so much danger, if Potter hadn't-" he stopped short. "Well, needless to say, we were in danger. A lot of danger. All because of Black."

"Okay, it's over now. I'm awful, dead tired, I'm turning in."

"Would you like me to walk you?"

"No, it's okay Sev," I said, smiling gently. "I think I'll walk myself."

"Okay," he replied. He looked reluctant to let me go by myself.

I leaned up and closed the space between us and pecked him sweetly on the cheek. "Good night, Sev."

"Good night, Lily."

A/N: Comments very welcome. Thanks to my readers and reviewers.


	24. Interlude, Frederick Wilkes

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-four: **Interlude, Frederick Wilkes

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

"_If dreams are like movies, than memories are films about ghosts." Counting Crows_

Tuesday, January 6, 1976

3:45 a.m.

"You have amazing intellectual capacity," Dumbledore said.

Frederick stared across Dumbledore's desk.

"In fact, if you hadn't come to me, I would never have been alerted to this fact." Dumbledore consulted a roster of the students in Frederick's year. "Of course, you _are_ sixth in your year, but regardless. I have never come across a student to master Occlumency in just a few hours."

Frederick looked down at his shoes humbly.

"I didn't say that last night, because quite frankly I was shocked."

"Of course, Professor."

"So, it was successful?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind?"

"No, it's what we agreed on."

"Very well." Dumbledore looked grim, and before Frederick could think anything else, Dumbledore was rifling through his thoughts.

_Frederick was strolling out of his dorm room and down the stairs to the common room… he was filled with fear… he was handing over his wand to Rodolphus, who smirked pitilessly at him… the spell was arcing over their heads… Frederick was filled with fear… Saloma was talking… there was Vernette Ziegler… Saloma was talking… the meeting ended._

"You do know, you are the first who has ever come to me," Dumbledore told him. "I had an idea something like this was going on, but the security measures Lord Voldemort uses to ensure no one else can or will find out are profound. Unless someone came directly to me, I may have never been able to find out."

Frederick said nothing.

"You are doing something extraordinary, Frederick. Something courageous, something no one else has yet the nerve or will to do."

"Yes, Professor."

"Let me know before the next one," Dumbledore said. "Thank you."

Frederick left.

He paused outside Dumbledore's office at a window, and stared outside. It was cold; the charms used to keep the halls warm were lowered at night. The sky outside was black and dotted with silvery-white, throbbing stars. Everything was still.

Except his heart. His heart ticked and ticked; he was consciously aware of every single tick and he used this so he would never forget, not even for a single heart-tick.

He walked slowly back to his empty bed.

***

Frederick quickly grew accustomed to life after love. He began occluding a lot; once equipped with the skill, he began wondering what he had ever done without it.

He woke every morning, ate breakfast with the Slytherins, went to class. He considered none of them friends, had never considered them friends. He knew the way Slytherins were, he was one of them. Even Severus had become just a means closer to… her.

And Severus' coldness towards Frederick after Christmas had been… unexpected. He had accepted it graciously and had since then regarded Severus with a sort of distant enmity. He had an unsettling feeling that Severus knew a lot of things that he had never told Frederick, a lot of things about her, about Evans, about what had happened.

Frederick felt some days like a leaf. Or maybe he didn't know what he felt like. He just felt delicate, delicately stable. Like a leaf anchored to a tree. Only fated to live a few more months than a season.

Frederick even felt alienated from his family. He had two twin sisters, Aubrianna and Desdemona, fifth year Slytherins who capitalized on all the younger students, and were perhaps the meanest girls in all of Hogwarts, apart from Jezzy Rosier. They had little sympathy for him, even after they found out what had happened on Christmas.

He couldn't even think about his father without boils of rage springing up underneath his skin.

And his mother. His poor mother. She had married Malcolm directly out of schooling. She was from France and had attended Beauxbatons, graduated first in her class, but nothing had come of her brilliance. Malcolm Wilkes had squashed all independence she had ever contained. Now, she held vapid parties with other Death Eater wives, she made petit fours, she made sure the house elves did the housework. And she was completely absent from his and his sister's lives. Not as if his sisters cared much anyway. They had one another and that was all they needed.

But Frederick had cared; Frederick had felt the loss, had absorbed it. And it had become a part of him. The internal acceptance, contemplation of a lost oblivion.

Loving her was like loving a star. He could never love it enough. It winked and throbbed and ticked at him, teasing him with its brilliance, some nights threatening to blink out.

And then it did, all his fault.

He couldn't think of it more every day. If he did, his heart would tick-tick-tick right out of his chest. He could only do what he knew he had to do. And what he was doing with Dumbledore, he knew that was what he had to do.

Fuck the rest of them.

A/N: Comments very welcome.


	25. The Black Prophet

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-five: **The Black Prophet

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

_Saturday, March 20, 1976_

_Teatime_

I couldn't believe what I was about to do.

I stared at the door in front of me. The wood was grainy and pebbly looking, if a door can be pebbly looking. It looked like the bottom of a riverbed. Maybe it wasn't even wood at all. I reached out my hand to stroke it.

But before I could touch it, it whipped open. In front of me stood Professor Figg, long silvery robes enveloping her willowy form. Even though she was so thin, her stature filled the entire doorway; I could in no way see past her robes.

"Miss Evans!" she said, surprised to see me there. "Is there something you wanted to ask me about class?"

"Um- er- no, actually… well," I stammered, and was amazed at my inarticulateness. I had known as I had crested the fourth floor staff hallway what exactly I was going to say.

She folded her arms over her chest and looked down her long nose at me. She was a duplicate of her brother and it was unnerving. "Yes?"

"Well…"

"She's here to see me."

For a second it was Josie's voice I was hearing, not Arabella's. But reality always sinks in.

Marlena Figg turned around and revealed Arabella's shrouded form. The hallway was dark and Arabella's face was hidden. All I could discern was her hair, crowning her head in curls, silhouetted by golden light emitting from further back in the rooms. It was long and big and bushy, much unlike Josie's perfectly coiled, short ringlets.

Marlena looked back at me, and when I didn't say anything, she nodded. "Very well, I will go to my office and grade some papers."

"Thanks, Aunt Marlena."

I pressed down my skirt and blinked an eye and we were seated in a neat parlor.

"Tea?" Arabella offered. I nodded and she handed me a pretty plate with green and blue designs on it. Then she poured the tea and we served ourselves in silence.

I was taken a back by her amount of couth. She looked like Josie, sounded like Josie. Their hair color was exactly the same, that rich milk chocolate color that might melt if you touched it. When she glanced across the small, low-lying table and our eyes met, I saw the same dark cerulean waters lined by long, delicately thin pieces of hair. Her skin was just like Josie's: so many freckles you were deceived into thinking her skin was a shade or two darker than it actually was. Here and there was a peek of alabaster white under the quilt of spots.

But then their similarities ended abruptly. Josie never had enough patience to sit around for tea: she was always out on the Quidditch pitch or helping Potter and Black play tricks on younger students. Arabella clearly had been sitting on that sofa most of the day: the pillows had molded to her back and a book was sitting on the side table, its spine bent to hold her place.

"How do you like it here?" I asked her.

"It's gorgeous," she said. "I had never been here, only heard stories about it. It is better than I could ever have imagined."

"You have to come have dinner in the Great Hall some time," I offered.

"I have thought about it. Aunt Marlena has mentioned it a few times," she said. "I don't know."

We sat in some more silence. I drank my tea slowly; I had no idea what to say to her and wished to prolong the amount of time I was not required to say anything by sipping very small amounts of my tea.

She, apparently, had other ideas.

"So Lily," she said, setting her empty teacup down and pushing aside her half-eaten scone. "Why did it take you so long to visit me?"

I was caught off guard. I stared over the rim of my teacup with wide eyes; the teacup had become my defense.

"Ummm…"

"Sorry for putting you on the spot, but honestly," she said. Her eyes were very accusatory and wide. Maybe her and Josie were not so unalike after all. "I thought you would be here almost as soon as term started. I knew Dumbledore had told you I was here. And I kept waiting. Waiting and waiting. I was ready to talk to you months ago, what have you been doing?"

"Well- I, um, I thought about coming to see you," I started.

"And?"

"And I just couldn't," I admitted. "You don't understand, Arabella."

"Well then explain it to me Lily, because quite frankly I have not been happy with you the last couple months."

I was shocked! This was not at all how I had imagined seeing Arabella for the first time since Josie's death would pan out. She did not look angry, but her voice and countenance was angry.

"I don't really know what to say."

She said nothing.

"You see, Arabella. When you look at me, what do you see? You see Lily, only Lily: you see _me_. When I look at you, I see Josie. When I hear your voice, I hear Josie. It's much too painful." I could feel a lump of tears filling my throat.

She softened then, as if maybe she hadn't thought about the pain I would feel upon seeing her. She folded her hands in her lap and had the grace to look down at them.

"I'm sorry Lily," she said. "I was just very hurt to think you wouldn't want to see me."

"I know, it's okay," I replied. I felt ashamed I hadn't come to see her before now. "I'm sorry for not coming earlier."

"I just thought you would want to come talk to me about Josie, about what happened that day," she said simply, raising her blue eyes back up to look at me.

Of course she would think that. What had I been thinking, staying away, thinking she wouldn't want to see me? I was the next best thing to actually seeing Josie in real life.

"Well, what do you want to do?" I asked her.

"Go for a walk? I haven't been out of this room since I got here," she said.

"Sure."

"Let me just leave a note for Aunt Marlena."

Soon we were walking out of the front doors of Hogwarts and into the cool March air. It was cloudy, threatening to storm, but the clouds didn't look too swollen yet. I surmised it might be a few more hours until a storm swept through.

"Hogwarts is huge," Arabella said, turning around to look back up at the massive castle. Her head was bent all the way back on her neck. "When I came here, it was dark, after midnight, and I had been given some sort of calming draught. I remember only someone guiding me up to Aunt Marlena's rooms."

"Why didn't you just floo here?"

"They thought it would be too hard on me. At least, that's what Aunt Marlena said when I asked her that later. I don't know what they were thinking though, I would have been fine."

She was done looking at the castle for then, and we set out towards the lake. Everything was budding and spurting out of the trees and ground; the earth was iced over with new growth. It was very windy as well and our light spring cloaks whipped around our legs. Arabella had tied her hair back in two loose braids and the curls hung out of the ribbons like little bunches of grapes. For some reason I felt as if we were characters in Jane Eyre.

"So Lily, don't you want to know what happened that night?"

I was speechless. I couldn't believe she wanted to replay it all for me.

"Arabella, that's up to you," I replied. "I never once imagined anyone would wish to tell me anything about it." I had reconstructed what had happened that night and I was satisfied with my rendition of the night's events. Josie and her parents had died. That was all I needed to or wanted to know.

"Well," Arabella started to say. "I just think I will feel better if I tell someone about it."

"You haven't talked to Professor Figg about it?"

"Lily, please call her Aunt Marlena or something other than Professor Figg. She's not my professor." She kind of giggled then and her curls blew up in her face. "And no. I haven't. She has told me I could if I wanted. She even had a specialist from Mungo's come in and try and talk to me about it. Like a wizard's psychiatrist or something, you know? But I didn't even talk to him about it. I just couldn't. _You_ knew Josie the best, and I wanted to talk to _you _about it."

Oh.

"Okay?"

"It's just that I don't know what I can do to forget seeing them there, lying in the Christmas parlor, their stares blank. Josie was staring straight up at the fairy lights my father always enchants every year. She always loved those the best about Christmas." Arabella paused here, even stopped walking. She looked up at me, her blue eyes wide and wet looking. I felt my stomach lurch at the idea that she might start crying. "At least I know she died looking at something beautiful."

"Oh, Arabella," I said, and reached out to hug her, but she backed away quickly.

"And to think it's partially my fault, to think that if maybe I had been there, they wouldn't have died," she continued, her lip trembling. "It's awful, Lily, just awful."

"Arabella, that is not what would have happened. You all would have died, Lord Voldemort is ruthless, and it wasn't your fault at all they died. Your father was an amazing, courageous man, as was your entire family."

She sniffled gently. "I was down in the town when it happened, but I knew almost immediately. Lord Voldemort casts that horrible spell, you know? The Death Mark or something like that?"

"The Dark Mark."

"It's so awful, Lily. Bethany, the muggle girl I was with, pointed up at my father's manor almost as soon as it was in the sky, and I had to turn around, you know? And everything was cast in evil green light. I will never think about the color green quite the same way, you know?"

I nodded slowly.

"I still just can't believe it happened. I still don't know what to do, every morning I wake up with the same question. Who am I supposed to be now? What am I supposed to do now? How do you keep living after your parents and sister have died?"

I didn't have an answer to her question.

We spent the rest of our walk reminiscing about Josie and her quirkiness. Arabella hadn't had a chance to do this with anyone since Josie's death, and I guess I hadn't really either.

***

I was becoming anxious about end of year exams. They were looming overhead like a gigantic troll with a club waiting to pound me if I hadn't the spell to deflect him.

Mostly everyone else in my year suffered the delusion that exams were two and a half months away and therefore elicited no panic; I knew better.

Arabella and I agreed on taking a walk or two a week around the lake, and I thought this was a perfect arrangement. I was hesitant to become too attached to her: I didn't want to start fooling myself into thinking she was Josie, but she really was a great girl, very mature for her young teen age.

I had come to avoid Hogwarts' grounds after dusk; the experience I had with Severus and James and Remus had traumatized me and I was not one to take the same risk twice. I still didn't know where James and Black and Peter got off to every full moon. I could assume they were with Remus, but who would want to spend an entire night with a full-grown werewolf on a rampage? No one.

But I found that I no longer cared. I had satiated my lust for adventure and I was sure I wouldn't be thirsty for quite some time.

No, I would much rather remain confined to the castle in the evenings, either studying in the library or common room or with the Ravenclaws, whenever I knew Morgan and Emily weren't studying with them. I had grown quite accustomed to studying on my own, sometimes accompanied by Arabella. She liked to come with me to the library and find a nice cozy corner with squishy armchairs and a window or two. There, I would study for hours and she would read whichever novel she was trudging through at the moment. I found out that she liked all classics, whether they were Shakespeare and Charles Dickens or Thomas Pynchon and Virginia Woolfe. She was incredibly sharp and I found that one day maybe I would learn a lot from her, even though she was a few years younger than me.

Vernette Ziegler also liked to study with me. We shared Herbology together, and she did seem to have a bit of trouble with it, so she liked to have me help her. She was already talking to me about spending time together in the summer, and I was actually looking forward to it. Spending time with her might get my mind off the void I felt from Josie and Emily's absence.

Emily was still ignoring me. Still! You would think, after 2 months or so of not talking to me, she would at least start to soften. But no, she still flounced around the castle with Morgan Kent, seemingly happier than she had ever been in her life. I was happy for her (what good friend wouldn't be), but a small part of my heart was still very sore about all that had happened between us. I thought about her every day, between classes, at meals. She never sat with the Gryffindors anymore in the Great Hall, and she was hardly ever in our common room; she apparently thought she had no friends in Gryffindor. She had become quite close to Winetta Rowe and Susie Ommerson, Ravenclaw girls in our year. Emmeline had kept her distance from Emily, perhaps out of loyalty to me. I wasn't exactly sure what her intentions were, but I appreciated them all the same; she even had the decency to update me on what was going on between Morgan and Emily, and how Emily was faring.

According to Emmeline, Emily was going with Morgan to Kenya that summer, for the entire summer. Needless to say, I was very jealous and could hardly contain my contempt when Emmeline told me about it. Emily had never before expressed any sort of interest in international travel! I was always the one who oohed and ahhed over different countries.

Underneath it all, I was also jealous of her regarding her relationship, and it's stability. I had no idea what I was doing with Severus, and what he was doing with me. After the werewolf thing, I hadn't talked to him for a few days. He was seething over the punishment that Dumbledore had given Black, which had consisted of eternal detention pending graduation, the barring from any sort of Hogsmeade trips (which really didn't constitute as punishment, because no one was allowed to go), a monitored curfew every night, and all Saturdays until the end of time, also pending graduation, spent with Dumbledore in his office, copying lines or something. Severus clearly had thought the offense against his person granted at the least expulsion, at the most detainment in Azkaban. Dumbledore, however, had told Severus that Black was still a minor and could not be incarcerated in Azkaban. Dumbledore had also told Severus that Black had made a very big mistake, and that he would pay for it, but that it is not wise to hold grudges like the one he was sure Severus was holding against Black.

Severus had told me that this was far from humanely possible. The boy had tried to get him killed, and quite frankly I was on Severus' side. How could I not be? What Sirius had done was, in my opinion, unforgivable. It had nothing to do with the fact that I had been involved.

However, out of the situation, I had developed a closer friendship with Remus. He was not talking to Black at the moment, although I was sure this wouldn't last. Remus was an eternally forgiving person, and he loved his friends. I also discovered just how very smart Remus was, and how effective of a Prefect he was. He did have a very hard time controlling his immediate friends, but beyond that, he kept very good control over our house and I found that together, once we began communicating more than polite nods and good mornings, we made a very good team.

March blossomed into April, and it began raining every day.

***

_Sunday, April 18, 1976_

Today marked the day Voldemort started his random but persistent killing spree.

That morning I went down to breakfast early, accompanied by Arabella. She, like me, preferred early mornings instead of long, drawn out lay-ins. A standard barn owl delivered my paper and I tucked in to my crepes and coffee before glancing down at the front page.

Which was completely altered from its usual appearance.

Instead of "The Daily Prophet" headlined at the top in huge, curly script, the paper was now called "The Black Prophet" in bold, hollowed out letters. All around the edge of the paper, like a border, were strung caricatures of the Dark Mark. The snake wiggled to an unheard tune inside the skulls mouth. I gagged a little bit on my uvula.

Underneath it was a personalized missive from Voldemort himself.

**Good morning my fellow wizards. As you can see, I have effectively infiltrated the owl post system and have managed to recreate your newsletters. I personally think the new designs are much more appealing and eye catching, never mind what you think. **

**You will find with these new editions of the Prophet that you are still receiving the same news, it will just be elaborated upon in a much more scintillating fashion. All the stories will cover the same material, but my brilliant editors will be tweaking the words in order to bring the effect up to my standards. I think this is a very efficient way to convey my message and teachings to the community. I hope that you all will benefit from this, will appreciate my efforts, and will respect me all the more when the time comes.**

**The main purpose behind this transition, however, is to enable all of you to take notes of the changes that are going to slowly progress across Great Britain. The first of many to come is elucidated further in the next few sentences.**

**I feel as if I have been very slack on the entire community. Enough has not been done to establish in this country the respect and fear I know I deserve. Therefore, I have made the very difficult decision to incorporate my message more personally among you. You will be made aware of these exciting events starting tonight.**

**I hope you enjoy the changes I have made to your Prophet and I look forward to our relationship burgeoning in the future. **

**Yours,**

**The Dark Lord**

I stared at the paper for about two seconds before standing up and casting a very strong incendio charm on it. Not only did the paper catch fire, but a stack of napkins and the ends of Arabella's overflowing hair.

"Lily!"

I seethed. I balled my fists and breathed through my nose like a bull. The smell of burnt hair was more than I could take and I fled the Great Hall. I was blindly running through the halls when I ran directly into Professor Dumbledore.

"Miss Evans!"

"Professor, have you seen the papers?" I asked urgently.

"Yes," he replied grimly. "I was afraid something like this was going to happen."

"What are you going to do about it? You have to do something!"

"I will conduct a school meeting today, in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall will announce it in a few hours."

"But what are you going to _do about it_?"

"Miss Evans, there is hardly anything I can do about it right now-"

"But Professor-"

"But **nothing**, Miss Evans. Excuse me, I am going to meet with your Professor's as we speak."

And with that he strolled away, his robes fluttering softly and smoothly in his wake.

I was so frustrated I wanted to scream. How dare Voldemort do something like this, completely up heave our community! I wished that I could do more. I wished for an insane second that I was a grown witch in the Auror Department at the Ministry, leading a group of talented witches and wizards, all who had suffered by his hand, towards Voldemort's strong-hold. There we would take them, and each would have a turn torturing him, killing him for the pain he had caused all of us.

I vowed that one day I would meet this man, this imperious creature, just so that I could see what Hades looked like reincarnated.

***

"Good afternoon." Dumbledore's booming voice echoed around the room and hung from the rafters. The entire student body was assembled in the Great Hall. "I am sure by now you all have seen the renovated Daily Prophet. If you haven't, turn to your neighbor and ask for his copy."

He paused for a moment during which time there was a great deal of rustling.

"I know it seems as if something like this could never happen. Voldemort has always affected us singly; never before has he managed to affect each and every person of the community wholly at one time. He has taken a very invasive step towards his goals: his voice will now be heard by our entire community, which is what he wants the most. We must look beyond the pages of the paper and not allow ourselves to be goaded and manipulated by his words and his seeming omnipresence. He will always be one man, just as you are all one man or woman. His hubris will undoubtedly be his downfall.

"I hope that each and every one of you will have the courage and self-confidence to look inside yourselves and realize the incredible resilience you possess. You all can stand alone, and while strength is sometimes found in numbers, it is usually one person alone that can make a difference. Be that person. You _can _stand alone.

"Thank you."

Everyone stood up at once and clogged the exit of the Great Hall. I was walking behind Potter and his friends, with Arabella next to me, and we somehow managed to be walking side by side with the sixth-year Slytherins. I have no idea how this ended up happening, because our tables were on opposite sides of the Hall.

First I saw Frederick. He looked at me sullenly and nodded.

"Evans," he said. His arms were folded across his chest. He refused to look at Arabella, who was staring up at him curiously.

Behind Frederick was Jezebel Rosier and Virginia Travers. They were both smirking at Frederick's head and when Jezebel met my eyes, she spilled contempt. Then she looked down at Arabella.

"Well, if it isn't mini Figg," she said.

Frederick whipped his head around, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that James and Black had turned around. Remus and Peter were standing behind them, great blurs of color.

"Rosier, back off," I said.

"What are you going to do, Evans?"

"She's not going to do anything," Potter said, coming over to stand in front of me. "Rosier, back off."

"Potter, move!" I said, shoving his back, but he was too strong for me to move.

"Please, Potter," Jezebel said. "You all are pathetic little pansy Gryffindors."

"This is beyond house taunts, Rosier. We all know that. So move along, unless you want something to happen."

"Who am I to turn down a threat?" she asked, and before anyone could reply, she sent a spell flying straight at Potter. Before I knew it he was on the ground, blood pouring from behind his ears. I gasped and realized I was wide open for her to send something at me. I pushed Arabella to the ground and whipped out my wand, but before I could do anything, Black had sent something at both Jezebel and Virginia. They were keeled over, their long hair pouring from the napes of their necks, and they were moaning in pain.

"Anyone else?" Sirius demanded, staring at the retreating Slytherin girls. Severus and Frederick were the only ones who didn't move. Severus had his wand trained on Jezebel and Virginia, and Frederick was staring at Arabella, as if he had just noticed her presence for the first time. He was just staring, dumbfounded into immobility.

"That was very stupid, Black," Severus said. "I was more than capable of taking care of them."

"You weren't doing anything, Snape," Black said nastily. "I don't trust you for a bleeding second."

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Professor McGonagall had arrived on the scene. Behind her stood Dumbledore and Slughorn.

"Looks like some honest, healthy house rivalry," Slughorn said good-naturedly. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and stuffed something into his mouth.

"Horace, don't be ridiculous," McGonagall snapped. Her hat fell off her head. "This is an outrage! Evans, take Potter to the hospital wing immediately."

I immediately obeyed, and was soon hovering Potter's motionless form out of the Hall. Behind me I could hear McGonagall screaming not only at Black, but also at Severus and Frederick. I peeked a look and noticed that Rosier and Travers had collapsed onto the ground.

The halls were relatively quiet. Most of the students had stayed behind to watch the scene unfold. I stared down at Potter. His hair was caked in blood and a stream of it was dripping steadily still from behind his ears and onto the stone floors. I didn't dare try to stem the blood flow. I had no knowledge of healing spells and knew that if I tried to do something it would only become worse. I was afraid he had become unconscious though, from loss of blood, so I began walking faster.

"Put him here," Madam Pomfrey said hurriedly, as soon as I walked through the door. I hovered his body over to the closest bed and winced as his head fell onto the pillow abruptly. "What happened?"

I explained, and then said I wasn't sure what spell Rosier had sent at him.

"More than likely some diluted, botched Dark Magic. I've seen this before. Something similar to it anyway." She immediately set to work, and I thought it best to leave her to it.

I headed back towards the Great Hall. Students filled the corridors now; Dumbledore had probably dispersed the audience to deal with the culprits more directly. I slipped through the doors and saw them huddled in the middle of the room. Frederick and Arabella stood off to one side, standing not so close to one another. Frederick had snapped back to reality and was no longer staring at her so blatantly. Instead, he was staring up at the ceiling. Further away from them stood Tori and Judith, who rushed at me as soon as I came through the door.

"Evans, is Potter okay?" Tori asked me.

"Why do you care?"

"I would rather not Jezebel get into a lot of trouble," she explained.

I pushed past them and descended upon the main group, where McGonagall was talking to them.

"So, Severus, you're telling me that you attacked Miss Rosier and Miss Travers?"

"Yes, Professor."

Sirius was staring at Severus as if he was a Hydra, but he wasn't stupid enough to contest what Severus was saying. Remus and Peter were hanging back behind the rest of them, listening intently.

"But you were completely unprovoked."

"Yes, Professor."

"Slughorn, this is your house. I have to go and check on my student." McGonagall said, and I was struck by her passiveness. "Gryffindors," she barked. "Let's go."

The four of us followed her out of the Hall, and Arabella tagged along behind me. McGonagall set off towards the Hospital Wing, and Sirius, Remus and Peter followed her, but I stayed behind. Arabella stood next to me hesitantly in the hall.

"That was odd," she said after a few minutes of silence.

I didn't reply.

"Did you see Wilkes staring at me?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I told you you look exactly like Josie, except the hair thing." And I picked up one of her huge curls and let it drop out of my hand. "Let's go, before they all come out." And we headed up into the castle. I knew I wasn't going to be studying that much at all that night, for I had a lot to think about. Like why Severus lied to the teachers and defended Black's attacks on Rosier and Travers.

What was he thinking?

***

"Lily, I don't know," he said vehemently.

We were standing outside that next night after dinner. The sky was darkening.

"Did Slughorn give you any sort of punishment?"

"No, he thought what I had done was honorable. He did punish Jezzy though."

"Not Virginia?"

"She didn't do anything," he said.

Oh yeah.

"Well I'm sure she would have."

"I don't think so," he replied. "Virginia is not like Jezebel."

"What do you mean?"

"You have to know the two of them," he replied shortly.

"Oh."

"Never mind, I don't want to talk about this right now," he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him. I could see up into his dark black eyes, lined by perfectly sectioned eyelashes. He kissed my forehead sweetly.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing," he said, and then he kissed my mouth. I felt anxious though, and hurriedly kissed him back before pushing away.

"Severus, I don't like this."

"What don't you like?"

"Kissing you all the time like this, doing the things we do," I replied. I walked a little ways away from him and turned my back. The lake was spread out before me and I could see tentacles tickling the surface a ways out.

"Well, what would you have me do about it?"

"I just don't like this random activity. What is behind it? Is there anything behind it?"

Severus looked caught off guard, as if he hadn't planned on discussing this with me. Maybe he had thought that we would never have to talk about it, that we could just hover in this limbo consisting of kissing and unspoken desire.

He said nothing.

"What do you feel behind it? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he said. "Everything."

I bunched my eyebrows up. What?

"Lily, I don't know," he finally said. "I don't know how to explain what I want from you."

"Well try, because this is getting silly."

"I think that all that I want is you," he said slowly, as if each word he spoke needed to be clearly enunciated.

"Severus, there are things in the way," I said. "You don't only want me."

Severus struggled with his words.

"I want you the most."

"Then you have to put aside all of that other stuff," I asserted. "I could love you, Severus, if all of that stuff wasn't there."

I turned around and looked up at his face. His eyes were muddled and his cheeks were flushed. He reached between our spaces and kissed me.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." And then he kissed me again on the cheek. And again on the ear. And again on my neck. And we whisked away to our secret place.

***

That night a muggleborn man in Bath was killed.

***

A/N: Comments welcome and appreciated.


	26. For the First Time

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-six: **For the First Time

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

_Saturday, April 24, 1976_

_Evening_

_248 days_

Severus poured the brunt orange liquid from the silver bowl through a copper mesh strainer and into another silver bowl. The individual molecules that made up the potion flowed through the copper and grabbed atomic size particles of the element, and the silver base completed the reaction, tying the bonds with little bow ties.

The reaction was instantaneous. Pewter gray, cold steam blew up in his face. Severus wondered how steam could be cold, but he checked the directions and that was what was supposed to happen. He set the ticker for 30 minutes and left the Room of Requirement to wander around the seventh floor a little bit.

The days were getting longer. He paused at an open window and relished the peach colored sky. He automatically thought of Lily's skin, and how it had felt the last time they had been together. He couldn't think about her these days without thinking about the ultimatum she had given him. It made him just the teeniest bit angry, that she had spoken so blatantly about it to him. There had even been desperation in her voice, and while under different circumstances that may have thrilled him, it had only irritated him more.

He loved her. He could repeat it every day until the day he died, and he would only love her more. There was no sense telling himself otherwise. He just wondered if his was the type of love that could give up everything. It was true, he might have loved her from the very first day he ever show her, back when they were just kids on swings. But he had dreams, dreams that could include her if she would just accept everything! He didn't want to be the next evil overlord or anything, he just wanted some sort of power, and knowledge was power. He had learned that from his mother ages ago. Lily, more than anyone else he knew, should understand that.

He moved past the window and walked a little bit further south until he came upon a door he had never really noticed before. There was a small window cut into the top of it and he peered through.

Revealed was the balcony that just a few months before Josie and Emily and Lily had been together, talking about Josie's life in her life. Now there was no life.

Severus turned the doorknob slowly and fresh, perfumed spring air met his enlarged nostrils. He let himself onto the balcony and quietly shut the door.

He stood there for a while, right in front of the door, just staring out into the fading dusk. The world was his medium; he just wanted to manipulate it. Magic enabled him to do this, and the more magic he commandeered the better. He moved away from the door and walked the few steps to the railing. The drop was dizzying.

He heard the door behind him open and he turned around, startled. It was Emily Leach, alone. Severus remembered then that she liked to come out to this balcony for a fag.

"Snape," she said. She walked to the other side of the balcony and lit her cigarette. The cherry tip glowed bright orange in the purple air and Severus thought immediately of his potion setting. Her hair was orangeish-red too, and she tapped the first set of ashes over the edge; they sifted down and out of sight.

She said nothing for a few moments, just dragged and blew. Severus didn't mind the scent (his father smoked cheap cigars), and he for the most part ignored her presence. Then she started talking.

"She's never going to love you, and if she does, it's all wrong, you realize that right?"

He turned around to look at her back.

"She doesn't see the truth the way I do," she said. She turned around, flicked her cigarette over the railing, and immediately lit another one. "I know what you are, Snape."

"What am I?"

"Something terrible," she replied nonchalantly, matter-of-factly. She wasn't telling him about his life, she was stating facts Binns taught them regarding Goblin rebellions.

"You don't know anything, Leach."

"Oh yes I do," she continued. "I know the ones like you. You feed off people. That's what you're doing to Lily."

"Shut it."

"She just doesn't realize it, because she thinks she loves you. She _thinks_. But she doesn't."

"What do you know about it? You aren't even talking to her!"

Emily looked sad for a moment. "I know Lily. She is not difficult to figure out. She should not be with you. She is a good person, and if she stays with you much longer, she will become infected. So infected there is no turning back."

Severus began feeling angry. How dare she say things like this to him!

"If you cared at all about her, you would stop talking to her, stop associating with her. It's for the best, really."

She finished her cigarette, threw it over the balcony and was gone before he could reply.

***

Severus tried his hardest over the next few days not to think about what Emily had said to him, but how could he not?

Sometimes he saw Emily in the corridors between classes and she was always flitting around, holding hands with Morgan Kent and laughing. She liked her hair tied back from her temples, and tassels of it hung down in curls to sway between her shoulder blades.

Her hair was lighter, more golden than Lily's, who grew brownish-red colored hair, the color of dried blood, or rust, a color that might crumble in your fingers if you rubbed strands together. Her hair was a dark cherry, rust, dried blood, swishing, seeping, crusting over her head.

What if on her head was a gaping wound and her rusty hair was years and years of accumulated dried blood?

Severus shuddered at the thought and broke himself out of his reverie.

"Severus, Severus, Severus," Lily was saying monotonously, in a deadpan tone. "Severus, Severus, Severus."

"What?" he asked a little harshly. "You sound like a broken record."

"Well of course," she replied. "I've only been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes."

Her eyes were wide, hiding behind her brown glasses, and green, just green,. Nothing special like emerald or pea or sea foam. Just green. "Yes, Lily?" he asked more gently.

"Do you remember what Slughorn said about the third transmutation phase of the burn ointment?" She consulted a roll of notes in front of her. Even her eyelashes were rust colored. Like little tiny, pliable needles submerged in blood and set out to dry. They fluttered against the thin skin underneath her eyes, that skin the color of a dark pearl. "Severus, our final project is due in less than a month. Slughorn did say he wanted it before exams started."

"Yes, I know Lils," he replied. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the pet name. "If you can call me _Sev_, I can call you_ Lils_."

"Severus, my question? And since when have you called me Lils?"

"He said you must add the cat's claw before the strained juice of the yucca. I have never called you that before."

"And are you sure he said that? It says both here and here" (she consulted 2 different potions books) "that you must first strain the yucca dry, and after it has set in the potion for 5 minutes, you add the cat's claw one by one, stirring in between adds. I don't really like 'Lils'."

"I already practiced it both ways. It works best the way Slughorn recommended. I don't really care what you like."

"Hmm," she murmured dubiously.

"He's the resident potions master, I think he knows better than some book."

"Some book?" Lily demanded. "These are not _some books_."

Severus diligently consulted his number-keeping book for another ten minutes, and then closed everything with good snaps.

"Are you done?" Lily demanded, looking up at him from behind her tower of books she had found in the library. She hadn't had to wander far, for they were sitting in the potions section.

"Yes," he replied. "It is late." He cast his tempus spell and out flashed in front of their eyes a neon green 11:45 p.m. "Madam Pince is going to kick us out soon."

"I suppose you're right. I hate this curfew nonsense. How do they expect us to prepare for examinations? Especially N.E.W.T. level ones?"

"The way all the other years before us have prepared."

She ignored him and set to organizing all her books in two piles, the ones she wished to keep and the ones she wished to leave. Severus waited patiently, slowly levitating away the books she handed to him. Their table was clean of debris within eight minutes, but before Lily could juggle all of her books, Madam Pince came stalking over. Her hair was crazed looking and she stared down at them both from out of square spectacles.

"I hope you didn't plan on taking those," she said to Lily. "The library is closing."

"Yes, we were just packing up to leave. I was bringing these to the front now."

Madam Pince sniffed dramatically through her long, thin, nostriled nose. Her glasses slipped down a little bit. "Check out time is over. I announced fifteen minutes ago that all library occupants need bring the books they wished to check out to the front desk. No one came, so I closed down the checkout worms. They are now sleeping, and there is no way you can check out those books."

"But, Madam Pince, I need these books to do more research in my common room."

"Some of those books can't even be checked out," Madam Pince replied. "Reference material is to be made available to all students who come into the library and wish to use it. You cannot keep it in your room."

"But-"

"But, nothing. You will have to put those books away and come back for them in the morning."

"How am I supposed to do my potions research?"

"Do charms research instead," she said in clipped tones. "I hope you are walking towards the exit in two minutes time. I want to go to bed sometime tonight." And she stalked away.

Lily grumbled as she levitated the books away to their respective holes in the shelves and then they headed towards the library doors.

"Why does she have to be such bitch?" Lily demanded loudly. "I hope she heard that."

Severus had never heard her speak so gruffly regarding the professors before. "Lily, I think you maybe need to relax?"

"What do you mean, I need to relax Severus?" She was getting feral. The way she usually did when exams were looming overhead. But they really weren't looming. There was over a month left until examination period started.

"I think you need to relax, honestly. Exams don't start until June."

"I guess maybe you're right," she acquiesced, slumping her shoulders over. "I do take it a little too seriously, you think?"

They were standing outside the library now. Madam Pince made a great show of locking the doors tightly and then she flounced away to the fourth floor.

"Just a little bit." She chuckled, and he laughed, something he rarely did.

"Severus, you don't laugh enough." Sound observation.

"I laugh plenty enough."

"What are you doing now? Going to bed?"

Severus thought about what Emily had said. _Bloody Emily_. Well, he didn't care what she had said.

"Let's go for a walk."

"It's sort of late, isn't it."

"I don't have an early morning class tomorrow. Do you?"

"No…" she hesitated. She bit her lip and then flicked her tongue out to massage the impression her teeth had made.

"Then let's go for a walk."

"Okay."

He led her upwards, a strange feeling coming over him. He had never thought of doing what he was about to do before, and he didn't know why. His pulse quickened.

"Sev, where are we going?"

"I want to show you something."

They crested the seventh floor and he led her down the hall, towards the Room of Requirement. She walked, blindly led by him. He stopped in front of the door and thought for a few minutes of what he wanted. A French door melted into the wall.

"Severus, what?"

He opened the door and pushed her in, locking the door behind him.

The room had done well. It had generated some sort of in-door cabana. Sheer curtains fluttered in amber colored breeze, and it smelled like vanilla and pineapple. There wasn't a bed, but there were several piles of soft looking cushions and blankets. He plucked her books out of her arms and set them on a table by the door. Her eyelashes stared up at him and he stroked the line of her neck delectably before brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder and leaning his face down towards her.

She kissed him back slowly at first. He nibbled on her lip and dipped his tongue into the hollowness beneath her chin. He squeezed her hips, the plush tenderness like pillows beneath his fingers, soft, velvety he was sure underneath her jeans.

He pulled her closer to him. Her breasts pressed into his chest and he ran his fingers up her sides. She shivered in response and locked her arms around his neck. He pushed her back a little, towards a pile of cushions. She kissed him fervently; her mouth tasted like the ice mice she had snuck into the library earlier and he lapped it up, dying from thirst.

She laid down softly on the pillows and he collapsed on top of her; she emitted a soft "oophf" as his body draped pressure over her, but soon they were snogging again, desperately. She moaned tightly against his mouth, causing his lips to vibrate. A spark of vivid lust stronger than ever ignited his groin, desire and urgency and pressure all flooding downwards to linger achingly.

"Severus, look." She pushed him away a little and was staring up at the ceiling. Stars were reflected in her big, glassy eyes.

He turned his head around and saw that the ceiling had given them a lovely, perfect view of the night sky. Hundreds of stars glittered over top of them, brightened all the more by the absence of the moon. There were as many stars as fragments of glitter that might be swept across someone's soft, soft skin.

"That's fantastic," she murmured.

"_You're_ fantastic," he said, turning back down to look at her.

"You don't mean that," she said sheepishly, and he could see doubt clouding over, obscuring the plain green color of her eyes, darkening them to that of olive. She glanced down shyly and he heaved himself off of her, frustrated at the limbo they held themselves in.

***

Her hips curved away from him in a plane not unlike that of a peach, swathed in black and fuzzy peel. He longed to reach out and run his thumb down the line of her body, feeling the soft, fluffy, impressionable cushion that was hidden by her dress.

Down from her hips flowed her long, delectable, thin legs. Muscled and strong, yet delicate and feminine, they stroked the ground with padded footsteps engulfed in black ballet slippers, leaving long trails of smudgy black impressions in their wake.

Up from her hips squeezed a petite waist. It was the most perfect, the most exquisite hourglass he had ever seen in his life. As if the master of all masters of hourglass makers had magiked the creation of a lifetime, out of blown glass and the lightest, most siftable sand charmed black.

Then happened her breasts: pert little mounds of whipped cream, standing in stiff peaks against the cool dungeon air, underneath the not-so-sheer black cloth enveloping her body. If only he could touch them, mold them to stand up and remain as those peaks, white peaks contrasting sharply against the rough stonewalls and the dark bed covers.

Her breasts flooded into a purebloods neck, long and angled and perfectly elegant. She turned her head around and for a minute she held herself there, her inky, shiny hair swishing as one long, infinite plane. She was floating in air, ballet slippers hovering inches off the ground, a dancers poise and grace surrounding her like the most perfectly composed classical music.

"Severus, what in Merlin's name are you staring at?"

He shook himself mentally and dragged his eyes upwards into her icy, white-blue eyes. Her face was elegant and chiseled, her cold ivory hands coyly twisting strands of that black magic between the digits.

"I think he's staring at _you_," he heard. He snapped his eyes away from Saloma's face and onto Gera's. She was equally stunning. Her eyes were huge, platter-size mounds of dark coffee, melting into you that searing gaze. Her olive colored skin was tickled by those devil's chocolate curls, the heaps of shiny ribbon growing out of her scalp and loping around her head. His gaze shifted down to her chin and beneath it, that little hollowed out pocket of sugar he could lap at all day.

Saloma slunk towards him slowly, a small smile tightening her face. Gera slunk behind her.

"What are you thinking about, Severus?" Her cold mauve lips were all he could focus on.

"What are you thinking about, Severus?" This time the words came out slowly, lower, muffled, as if she spoke to him from under the water.

"I think he might finally be noticing other females," Gera said, off to the left.

"Have you finally given up on Evans?" Saloma teased him. She was now bent over, hovering in front of his face. He was reclining in an armchair and her breath washed over him in cold waves.

He couldn't really speak, just was feeling that familiar and aching pressured pleasure.

She touched her neck with one of her hands and slowly dragged a fingernail down the center of her chest. In its wake trailed an angry red irritation, becoming all the more inflamed as she teased more tender areas. Her finger now rested in the apex of the empty cone of air between her two breasts. She questioned him with her eyes, and he nudged his head to the right. She trailed her fingernail across the swell of the left bosom escaping her dress, and as she got closer and closer to the fabric, he got more and more nervous. She forced the tight, thin fabric out of the way and dragged her finger across her now entirely exposed left breast.

He sucked in a huge pocket of air, and she giggled. This caused her breasts to quiver and her finger to brush and scrap up against the nipple. It immediately hardened and he couldn't take his eyes off the light and intimate teasing she was enacting upon herself.

She licked and bit her bottom lip and he glanced back up at her face.

She cocked an eyebrow and he tentatively reached his right hand up to fondle her breast. It fit perfectly in his hand and felt warm and supple; the dark, sharp nipple rubbed gently against the middle of his palm.

"Shall we?"

A/N: Sorry for the bit of a delay. Thanks for the few reviews last time, and thanks to my readers, as always. Even if there aren't as many reviews as I might like, I'm still grateful that many are reading.

Comments, as always, very welcome and appreciated.

P.S. If anyone really digs this fic and would like to beta it for me, please email me. I really do need a beta.


	27. Tides of Summer

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-seven:** Tides of Summer

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

**Recap SWD**: Lily and Severus both know now about Remus' lycanthropy, but they do not know about James, Sirius and Peter's Animagi… James obliviated both of them. Frederick is spying on the Slytherins for Dumbledore. Arabella Figg is at Hogwarts now, living with Professor Figg. Voldemort has taken over the Daily Prophet and declared to the wizarding population that a death/attack per night is his new procedure for the time being. Vernette Ziegler is not the loyal Hufflepuff she should be. Severus may be having 'relations' with Saloma Yaxley.

"_Haven't slept in a week, my bed has become my coffin." The Rasmus_

_Sunday, June 6, 1976_

_3 p.m. _

Lily sat with her arms crossed, staring out the train window. The scenery flashed by, mottled greens and browns intermittently splashed with pink and orange color. Bright yellow sunshine shone through the window in dazzling color; she felt anything but dazzled. Next to her was a stack of books Arabella had lent her, teetering precariously close to another stack of pumpkin cakes. She continued to stare out the window, ignoring the chatter of Emmeline and Vernette, who had immediately taken to one another as soon as the train had started south.

Lily had opted against sitting with her fellow Gryffindors. Severus had wondered if she wanted to share a compartment with him, but she had turned him down. She had even entertained the notion of taking an entire compartment to herself, but Emmeline and Vernette had asked her on separate occasions to sit with them. So there she was.

Lily was full of discontent. Her eyes had darkened to forest green, the color of the dress she wore. She wasn't sure why she was discontented, she just was.

It certainly had nothing to do with the exams. There wasn't a single question on any of her exams that she hadn't known the answer to. Even the Transfiguration exam had been a breeze. This was the first time in all of her years at Hogwarts she was absolutely sure she had scored one hundred percent on each exam. She had, of course, studied like mad, so what should anyone expect?

Emmeline and Vernette chattered on and on, as if they had known each other for years. Lily wished she could chatter, but she couldn't help but notice the dissimilarities between this year and the last.

This time last year she had had Josie and Emily in the compartment with her, and her and Severus had not been speaking. Now, things had changed. Emmeline had told her that Emily had completely infiltrated the ranks of Ravenclaw. Where she had once been acquaintances with Susie Ommerson and Winetta Rowe she was now absolute best friends. Lily couldn't help sneering at the window at the thought of it. It infuriated her!

She sniffed dramatically and turned back to the interior of the compartment. Emmeline had released her owl from its cage and he was currently perched atop her head, digging his beak affectionately into her braids. He was a cute little thing, but a species Lily had never seen before.

"Emmeline, where is your owl from?"

"He's an asian owl," she said, letting him nip at her finger affectionately. "An Asian Barred Owlet. They are common in China."

"He's very sweet," Netta said. She was currently petting Lotte, who had flown restlessly around the compartment when Lily had let her out. Lily usually let Lotte fly home, but that evening there were supposed to be thunderstorms. She thought better not to chance it, especially since Lotte had looked so disgruntled that morning as Lily had packed her stuff.

She stared out the window some more, counting down the minutes until they pulled into Kings Cross. She couldn't stand listening to the girls chatter any longer, and tapped her fingers idly against her bare arms.

It was hot out. Boarding the train had been misery, and her legs had already begun to chaff uncomfortably. She knew the moment she had stepped out of the castle that she should have worn jeans.

"I'm going to get some air," Lily said, referring to the caboose. Emmeline and Vernette ignored her.

She stepped out and slid the compartment door shut behind her gently. Across from her compartment were a few Hufflepuffs in her year, playing Gobstones. Molly Green, her dark hair covered in green gook, waved at her enthusiastically. Lily smiled back at them, and then moved towards the back of the train. The carpet was plush and springy under her flats, and her hair bounced thickly in its ponytail against her bareback. Sweat had formed little tiny repositories of dew in the loops of hair curling away from her scalp; she walked quickly, taking care not to glance in any of the compartments. When she reached the end, she slid the glass open carefully, and stepped out into the rushing air.

Flying away from her were mountains and dark green trees. The landscape bled together and she closed her eyes, untying her hair quickly. There was nothing she loved more than the feeling of fast summer air cooling the pockets of sweat between her hair strands. She breathed in the smell of summer, the oatey, dry heat smell of hidden earth. She opened her eyes again and leaned against the railing, just staring forever at the wild countryside.

She knew that if she could, she would jump off that train right that instant and maybe never return to wizarding kind again. She had her wand tucked into her panty line under her dress: that was all she needed. Lotte would fly back to her when the train reached Kings Cross. She could live off the land until she died of archaic age.

She turned around and leaned her back against the thin, metal railing. It was uncomfortable, digging into her back. She crossed her arms and threw her head back to stare up at the sky. It was bright blue, dotted with caricatured, fluffy clouds. Her hair flew out behind her; the color of rust, it fell to her waist in that moment, looped in the places it needed trimming, but she didn't care any longer. She had applied a straightening charm to it that morning, and she actually preferred it that way. She was considering applying the charm every morning. She thought it lent her more class, and it was much more manageable this way. She could pull it back in a ponytail without there being huge, ridgey bumps jutting up from her scalp. It was smooth and shiny and heavier than normal. It was an iron curtain of rustiness.

Her arms were hot. If she stayed out there for much longer, her fair ivory skin would scorch. Her long nose felt dry and burned already, but she didn't care. The space between her thighs was moist with sweat, and sweat coiled and dripped between her shoulder blades, forming deep trenches as it fell from her scalp. Her upper lip was moist with salty beads. She closed her eyes and felt her mascaraed eyelashes graze the pockets of skin beneath her sockets, where puddles of moisture lingered, waiting patiently to be sucked and distributed back into the cool air inside the train. She imagined her mascara leaving little smooth black ink strokes behind, connecting the spaces between each freckle stained into her skin.

She opened her eyes again, looked straight through the doors window and into the train. Staring back at her was Frederick Wilkes.

She bored her eyes into his, those pools of grey that leaked beyond the irises and streamed into the creases and premature age of the face. He looked cold; perhaps the cooling charms in the corridors had been strengthened since she had last been there.

He tightened his lips and moved past the door and onto the caboose's platform. He stood next to her, staring out at the shrinking horizon. Neither one spoke, just relished the soothing roar of wheels on track.

They remained that way as dusk fell, and the train pulled into Kings Cross Station. Even after they laid down in their respective beds that night, they felt one another's presence.

_Friday, June 18, 1976_

_193 days_

Severus roamed the streets of summer. He liked to think of the streets connecting with one another, all the streets connecting with one another all over the world. If he walked long enough on this same street, would he end up back in the same place?

Of course not.

But it was hot, hotter even than last summer. His hair, soaked in the oily substance, stunk and hung around him, stinking. His hair was blacker than ever.

_Black._

Her hair had been black, all of her hair all over her body. Her skin had tasted good too, like a peach. Peachy sunlight. He swept his eyes back and forth across the road, ensuring there was no one there to hear his thoughts.

He couldn't do it again. Never again. Yes, maybe it had been rapturous. Even better than rapturous. He had never imagined his first time being so fulfilling. She was a whore. How else could she have known to bend her leg that way? Or to suck that way?

He could never do it again. No matter how many times she snuck into his room at night. He had banished her the night before. He would soon have to employ some kind of deterrent charm on his door; otherwise he would never be safe from her promiscuous charms. She was a succubus.

It was all he had thought of for the week after it had occurred. His brewing had suffered and he had actually managed to spoil 4 different drafts of a potion he was working on. He never had been that distracted before.

He had managed to convince his mother to extend her laboratory. It now had two separate rooms, one small room where he could brew and one larger room where she could conduct her experiments. He spent most of the evenings and nights in the lab; the days he either spent with Lily, or he spent reading, researching, preparing for his last year at Hogwarts.

His mind was inundated with thoughts of his looming birthday. Sure, it wasn't until next year, but when you only had 6 months to decide between one life style and another, it rushed at you.

How had he let it happen?

***

The night before, Molly Green and her muggle family had been murdered.

That morning he had read the article in the Daily Prophet. The writer had spoken in clipped, short tones, as if that had been the 20th of the week he had been asked to write.

He avoided Lily's street that day. He was sure she would be in a terribly depressed mood. Molly Green was a muggle-born girl from Hufflepuff, and Severus was sure Lily saw herself and her family in the murder last night.

_Saturday, July 3, 1976_

_3 p.m. _

"Daddy, I don't understand what you are telling me," Lily said. She pressed the clutch down and yanked the shifter back into first. Then she released the clutch and the car jerked into that in between state. The keyhole dinged at her.

"You need to gradually, while holding the clutch down, ease the car into motion."

"While it's in first?"

"Yes. Restart the car."

Growl. She pressed the clutch in again, and yanked the shifter into first again, and pressed the clutch into the carpeting.

"Now, put your other foot on the gas-"

Puh-lunk.

"Slowly!"

"Sorry." The keyhole dinged at her again.

"Restart the car."

She slowly pressed the gas in.

"Now, you have to release the clutch and press the gas simultaneously. You have to learn the car, this may take a while."

She eased the car into motion. And released the clutch too quickly. And the car jerked into neutral. And the keyhole dinged at her again.

"Maybe that's enough for the day."

***

"How'd it go?" her mother asked. She was standing in the kitchen drying dishes with a towel. A glass of lemonade sweated on the kitchen bar, and behind it sat Petunia. In front of her and arranged around the lemonade were wedding cake samples.

"It was okay, progressive maybe." Lily went to the icebox and poured herself a tall glass of lemonade. Her long hair was sticking to the back of her neck, despite the tight ponytail she had pulled it up in.

"She is getting better," her father said. He came behind her, mopping his forehead with an already damp handkerchief.

"I wish it wasn't so hot," Lily said.

"Yes, that would be nice," her mother replied. "Even a little breeze would be more than we've had practically all summer. I'm praying the weekend of Pet's wedding will be cool."

"Which cake do you like?" Lily asked her. Petunia was daintily forking crumbs from each plate into her mouth.

"It's between the strawberry with butter cream and the devil's chocolate with butter cream."

"Oh, you know strawberry is my absolute favorite," Lily gushed.

"Lils, it's Pet's wedding, not yours. When you get married, you can have strawberry cake all you want," her mother said from the sink.

"Exactly," Petunia said. Bits of chocolate crumb had lodged themselves in between her two front teeth. "Vernon's mother still has to give me her input. I doubt she will want something as common as strawberry cake."

"Whoever I marry probably won't want strawberry cake anyways," Lily replied, ignoring Petunia's 'common' jibe.

"They might," her mother said optimistically.

"Not if you marry that Snape character," Petunia said nastily.

"Lily, you know I never liked you spending too much time with him," her mother opined. "It is convenient you can just floo from Kings Cross to his house, but it's a bit much to be seeing him every day."

"I don't see him everyday," Lily argued.

"You see him a lot, more than enough."

"He is a bit of a murky character," her father agreed.

"He isn't, Petunia see what you started?"

"It was bound to come up in conversation eventually, Lily."

"But mum-"

"But nothing. I don't want you spending as much time with him. I feel like he's a bad story."

"But mum-"

"End of story."

"But daddy-"

"Listen to your mother," he said placidly. He had settled into the kitchen table with the evening newspaper.

Petunia smiled at her from the kitchen bar, her lemonade sweating a ring of tepid water into the teak countertop.

***

Up in her room one of Voldemort's crows was waiting for a knut or two as payment for the Evening Prophet. She hurriedly dug into her change purse and slipped the money into one of his talons. He shrugged off the rolled up paper and swooped out of her open window. She threw the paper onto her unkempt bed without looking at it (she had half a mind to shred it into minute pieces and threw it out the window after the infernal crow), and stared at the black, stagnant curtain that separated her and Petunia's bedroom.

She was sure Petunia wouldn't be upstairs for a while. She loved to sit at the kitchen bar and gossip with their mother. Lily pushed the curtain aside and stepped into Petunia's half of the bedroom: it was a perfect negative of Lily's own side.

Sure, Lily was neat. Most days she was pretty anal about making her bed, but this summer had run a little differently. The deaths had affected her in an even stronger and more poignant way than she had anticipated and she had reacted accordingly.

Petunia's room was spotless. Her wedding dress hung, sheathed in black plastic, in front of her closet. Her bed sheets were perfectly tucked in, hospital corners and all. Her dresser and desk had been dusted just that morning.

Lily crossed the whole two steps between the curtain and the bed and sat down on Petunia's off-white sheets. That was something she hadn't dared to do since pre-Hogwarts days.

She laid her head back against Petunia's flattened pillows. She would rather face her sister's wrath and dismay at a few long, red hairs against her off-white pillowcases than read about any more deaths in the wizarding and muggle worlds.

_Sunday, July 25, 1976_

_154 days_

_Dusk_

"Lily, you should think about submitting these somewhere," Severus said. He rifled through a few of the pages she had let him see. She wouldn't let him see any more, though. He assumed writers were funny about their work, and only approved others to read what they sanctioned appropriate. He wondered what the point of writing it was then.

"I don't think that it is a good idea," Lily said. She stared out at the darkening Irish sea. They had driven the hundred or so miles west through Chesire and into Merseyside. Lily had finally learned to drive, and she had lied to her parents and told them she wished to go on a short, weekend holiday with her muggle friends from New Mills. They had been more than happy to consent, always wishing her to entertain more friends during the summer and winter hols than Severus. Her and Severus had split the cost of a small, cheap motel on the coast and had spent the weekend enjoying the small town, the seaside, and each other's company. Her hair had lightened to dark gold strands in certain places, framing her face, and her freckles were browner than ever. He had never thought her to be more beautiful than those days they spent together on the coast.

They shared a bed in the hotel, and had even taken a bath together in the deep, claw-footed bathtub. They were both of age and had been more than welcome to the spirit cabinet, which held myriad wine and liquor. They had settled on a cabernet sauvignon, which was so dark red it was almost brown, and had stained their mouths and other areas of their body with glass after glass of it.

"I need those essay's to be proofread," she said, sipping from a thermos of ice cold water. "And I don't know what kind of periodical would accept something like what I write. Certainly not the Daily Prophet."

"Anything political," Severus replied, skimming the paper. He thought what she wrote quite good, maybe even great. It was subtle and flowed nicely and tiny brilliances shone out of sentences here and there. Certainly there was only room for improvement.

"Petunia's wedding is in a few weeks," Lily said. She picked at the plate of cheese she had packed as part of the picnic.

"Where is it?"

"Well, his parents live in Avon," she explained. "He just bought a house in Surrey. He travels all over for his business work, though. That's how they met, you know."

"You still didn't tell me where the wedding is."

"Oh. It's in Hampshire, on this little island off the coast. I think it's called Hayling Island?"

"Isn't that a bit far?"

"I guess if it's what she wants, it doesn't matter. His parents are paying for a lot of it."

"Untraditional," Severus muttered.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Lily demanded.

"No," Severus replied simply.

"Anyways, after the wedding I'm just planning on staying in London until the 29th of August, when we are due to catch the train."

"Your mother approves of that?"

"Well, my parents are staying with me. While Petunia is on her honey moon, we decided to have a little holiday for ourselves."

"That's not much of a holiday."

"Yeah, well. I want to really take my parents around and show them wizarding London. I was thinking of flooing them to Hogsmeade."

"Can muggles floo?"

"Yes, I looked it up. As long as they are completely familiar and comfortable with the concept, they have no problem flooing with a magical accompaniment."

"Interesting." Severus had no real reason to discover things like that. His mother had all but alienated herself from the wizarding world upon meeting his father, who resented magic. He did manage to understand that magic was her life, and therefore a means to an end, but beyond that, he wanted nothing to do with it.

_Ignoramus. _

"-those little shops in Hogsmeade, the taverns, my mother will be absolutely charmed. I have no doubt they will want to live with me when I have my own place. My mother hates it in New Mills, only lives there because of my dads job. But my dad has so much saved in retirement that he could easily retire now and support both her and him very comfortably."

Severus said nothing, just nibbled on a slice of cucumber she had packed up that morning.

"So you know where you may want to live after we graduate?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Yes, I've been thinking somewhere up north. I love the wilderness of the north, Scotland. It has captivated me more and more the last few years. I would love nothing more than to grab 20 or so acres, raise horses, write away my days."

"Sounds like something out of a romance novel," Severus said obscurely.

"Don't be so sardonic, I wouldn't have told you otherwise," Lily replied, looking at him out of the side of her head. "I love the land, you don't get that sort of thing in New Mills. My mother will be able to potter around, grow something out of the land, use it like she has always wanted to. My mother grew up on a farm, albeit a small one."

"New Mills isn't that far off."

"It's suburban. You just _know_ the difference," Lily said haughtily. She pushed aside the plate of cheese and reached into the picnic basket to pull out a small, plump peach. She picked up a fruit knife and sliced the entire peach into little wedges. She pulled at one and slowly brought it to her mouth and her tiny white teeth bit into it. He watched her lips envelope the fuzzy skin and the yellow flesh, and he followed a drop of peach juice as it seeped between her lips and trailed over her chin and down her neck to disappear in the tiny little hole that signified the beginning of her cleavage.

They sat in quiet, chewing the rest of their picnic dinner. The waves crashed loudly on the sand and the night faded into existence until it was too dark to see one another.

***

_Wednesday, August 4, 1976_

_144 days_

_5 a.m. _

"Severus."

"Yes, mother?"

"I need you to prep some things for me." She was talking about potions ingredients. Out in her laboratory.

It was very early morning. His father had already left for work, and Severus was sitting at the kitchen table. His mother was packing her lunch for work, her back turned to him. Her long, streaked black hair was pulled into a tight, tight bun. Not a single wisp of hair escaped. Her long black robes fell around her in waves and her right elbow cut back and forth, back and forth, as she cut up vegetables and plopped them in a container. He nursed a cup of black coffee.

"What do you need me to cut up?"

"I arranged it all last night. There are six, maybe seven ingredients. The book I'm using is opened to the correct page, just prepare them accordingly and keep them in the order I have them. It shouldn't take you too long, then you can have the rest of the day to do as you please."

"You don't want me to do any other chores?"

"No, dear."

He was a bit surprised. His mother usually had a list, albeit a short one, prepared every morning. Sweep the kitchen, clean the hearth, dust the front room, piano, etc., etc. The chores were always easily done, but this was the first morning all summer she had not assigned him anything to do. Other than the prepping. That was something he enjoyed though, so he didn't mind that too much.

"I won't be back until later, much later tonight. Your father already knows, try and stay out of his way?"

"Sure."

"Have a good day, love." She kissed his forehead, and then she was gone.

***

He quickly finished the prep work, and wandered back into the house. It was so quiet. Only the subtle ticking of the clock in the front room, a metronome for his thoughts, echoed throughout the house.

He glanced through the archway and saw the piano, the old, chipped thing he had been playing since he was three. He even knew how to tune it. He jumbled a few notes out on the piano before sitting down.

On the bench, he stared at the ivory teeth below him. The black keys were nestled in like cavities growing up from the gums. He began playing a piece from memory. He used time as his metronome, although he hadn't needed a metronome since he was five.

When he was done, he stared at a picture mounted on the wall above the piano. It was a family portrait of the three of them, taken when he was much younger, four maybe. His mother, as plain as she may have been, was brilliant. Her hair was shorter then, thick and inky black, and her eyes were light, light gray. She smiled sullenly at the camera, holding her little child in her arms. Behind her stood his father, tall and thin and grim. His hooked nose loomed over the two of them ominously, and his black tunnels of eyes stared, stared hard into Severus' own.

"Mean looking, that man."

Severus started, almost falling clear off the piano bench. He steadied himself and whipped his head around. There was Saloma, lounging on the parlor couch. Her slender legs were crossed underneath her thin black dress, and her arms were stretched away from her, perched on top of the couch's cushions. Her long hair fell down and obscured her upper body.

"Yaxley, what are you doing here?"

She smiled slightly. "I think you know."

Severus ground his teeth in irritation.

"Lovely playing, by the way. Who knew you had so many talents? You just keep surprising me."

"Leave, now."

"I'm not leaving. You can't banish me."

"Do you have any idea how rude you are? This has got to be the sixth or seventh time you have just popped into my parents' home. Without invitation or encouragement."

"Your parents don't have the slightest clue I have been here," she said, her pale blue eyes blinking long eyelashes languidly. "And I believe it's been 8 times."

Severus turned away from her then, and stared back up at the picture in frustration.

"Why don't you play something else for me?" He felt rather than heard her push herself up from the couch and slink over towards him. She hovered over him, half an inch from touching his back. Her hair smelt like pink champagne. He gulped audibly. "Why don't you play something for me?"

"What would you like to hear?"

"Why don't you play me some Mahler? I'm sure you know who that is."

Of course Severus knew who Gustav-fucking-Mahler was.

Severus began playing, and she edged a little closer to him. Her face hung in the curve of his shoulder and her little breasts teased his back playfully. "That sounds so good," she murmured into his ear. Her breath washed over his neck and head and he leaned a little bit away from her. She brought her arms up, linked them around his neck and began to slowly massage his chest. "Does that _feel_ good?"

Despite all Severus intended, he mumbled in agreement and abruptly stopped playing as her hands drifted further and further towards his belt buckle. She bit roughly into his neck and commanded that he keep playing no matter what she did.

So he kept playing.

_Sunday, August 22, 1976_

_Early Morning_

It was the morning of Petunia's wedding. Lily and her family were in Hayling Island. They ferried in early Friday and had spent most of Friday and Saturday making sure everything had been planned accordingly. Petunia had found no flaws yet, and Lily was praying for it to stay that way. She couldn't bear one of Petunia's freak-outs.

The hotel they were staying in was lavish. Lily's bed mattress was stuffed full of down, she was sure, or down's alternative. Nevertheless, it was the softest bed she had ever slept on, even softer than her bed at Hogwarts. Petunia had ordered that the room they stay in have 3 beds, not 2, so she wouldn't have to share one with Lily. Lily felt that worked out great for the both of them. Lily could stretch her legs apart as far as they would go on either side of her, and her feet still didn't hang over the edge.

Lily buried herself further under the covers, and smiled to herself. In approximately 36 hours, Petunia would be gone to Italy or Greece or Morocco or wherever it was she was going for her honeymoon, and Lily would have her parents all to herself.

Lily was gleeful Petunia was getting married. This meant no more Petunia at her parents' house. Of course, this was the summer before Lily's seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and ideally she would get her own flat right after graduation, but who's to say how things pan out. Petunia's marriage meant for Lily no more holidays marred by Petunia, no more summers, emergency weekends home. Lily's smile grew wider and wider at the proposition.

She sat up slowly and stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging in front of the bed. Her red hair was rumpled and her make up from the night before was smudged blearily underneath her eyes. Her nightgown's thin straps hung over her shoulders and her collarbone jutted out and away from her body dramatically. In the other room she could just see the end of Petunia's bed. It was neatly made, which most likely meant she was up and getting ready for her day to begin.

Lily pushed the blankets aside and swung her feet over the edge and onto the thick carpet. She grabbed her light, summer robe and tied it around her waist, and walked over to the little door with clean, bright windowpanes that led out to one of the small balconies in their room. She quietly opened it and let herself out into the cool summer air that threatened heady heat.

Hayling Island boasted beautiful shorelines: it was one of its main attractive features to tourists. Lily leaned on the curly, wrought iron railing and stared out at the brilliant, white-blue ocean. The sun had risen a couple of hours earlier, and shown triumphantly and proudly over the rippling, migrating, massive body of water. Already families were staking out their beach property with rainbow-scalloped umbrellas and old, rusty beach chairs. Lily could see a few tiny children playing in tidal pools, scooping out wet sand super-saturated with tiny, violet colored clams. They screamed and laughed at their parents, who were trying to put sunscreen on them before their fair skin blistered and peeled. Lily remembered her own parents' attempts to do this after they were already on the beach. Petunia always waited patiently for her sunscreen before getting all sandy, but Lily could not wait. So every time, twenty minutes after getting there, when she was thoroughly coated in sand, she had to suffer and endure the painful application of sunscreen on her gritty body. Her father rubbed in it mercilessly, chiding her for not waiting. Her mother was usually much more gentle, and would rinse her down with water from their cooler before proceeding, but there was always those stubborn grains of sand left behind that would irritate her and make her angry at her parents for making her wear sunscreen in the first place.

She was grateful now, of course. She had very nice skin and attributed her skin's healthy nature to her parents' unfailing efforts.

She loved the sounds of the ocean: the crash of waves, the call of gulls, the scream of children, the murmur of someone's radio. She wished she could go and spend all day on the beach instead of wasting the day away at a hot, stuffy wedding service.

She sighed heavily, and took one last longing glance at the waves curling in to crash on the tidal pools before heading back inside to begin getting ready.

As soon as she stepped into the hotel room, she head Petunia demand.

"Mum, where are my shoes!"

"Pet," her mother replied calmly from a bathroom. "I'm not entirely sure, you packed your own luggage."

"I can't find anything!"

An hour later someone was knocking on the hotel door.

"Lily, get that!" Petunia screeched.

Lily, her hair half-dried and only clad in a slip, set her hair dryer down and hurried to the door. Behind it stood Agatha and Meggy, the other two girls making up Petunia's half of the wedding party. They were dressed in black-tie, their bridesmaid dresses slung over their arms, and Agatha sneered at Lily as Lily stepped aside to let them in.

"Hello, Lily," Meggy said. She gave Lily a kind-of smile.

"Petunia is in the master suite," Lily told them, and then hurried back to her vanity to continue getting ready.

About an hour later, Lily's father was yelling at everyone to hurry up. Lily was seated in the small sitting area near the front door, her small clutch in her lap. Agatha and Meggy were sitting across from her, talking quietly about that evening.

"Lily, are you ready?" Petunia demanded. She came into the room.

"Yes, do I look ready?"

Petunia ignored her and called to their mother, who came bustling out quickly. Her mother looked down at Agatha and Meggy and asked them where their attendants were.

"I don't have one," Agatha said proudly.

"He is downstairs in the lobby," Meggy said. "He didn't think it appropriate to come up here while everyone was still getting ready."

"Very good," Lily's father said. "Let's go, before we are any later."

Petunia led the way out, towing her dress and shoes, and soon they were all seated in a limo, ridding towards the church. Agatha and Petunia giggled together, and Meggy and her attendant sat together quietly, holding hands. He was semi-attractive, with mousy brown hair and dark colored eyes. He had smiled at Lily sullenly when introduced.

As soon as they got to the church, Petunia rushed out with Agatha and Meggy to a side room where she could get ready. Lily followed behind with her mother, who was already getting teary eyed, and her father.

It took several hours for Petunia to finally be ready. The wedding was scheduled to begin at two. Finally, Petunia stood in the atrium behind her bridesmaids. Lily thought her sister looked beautiful for perhaps the first time in her whole life. Her dress was classic and simple, long and satiny white with a low cut back and no sleeves. She wore long white, silk gloves and her veil was small, forties style. Her flowers were various tones of blue. She had selected a navy blue for her bride's maid's dresses.

The wedding was beautiful, and the reception was fun. Lily stuck with her own relatives: Vernon's relatives were rather detestable and rude. She got very drunk off champagne with her mother and by the end of the night, her and Petunia were laughing together at a table. Lily felt sad for a few moments, wishing her sister and her could always have laughs together. Then she remembered that things would never change, that people never change. And she felt sad no longer.

A/N: I am **so** sorry for the long delay!   Alas, here is the chapter. I tried to make it longer than normal to make up for the long wait you all had to endure. Of course, I planned this chapter to be longer anyways… lol. At least I didn't leave you at a cliffhanger. I think it's a bit difficult to make one of my chapters a cliffhanger, because of the binary format I have going on. I will have to work on my technique and try and see if I can make a cliffhanger work. I'm sure, once things become more adventure/action based, it will work much better.

Anyways, thanks a lot to my readers. Comments welcome and appreciated, as always.

If anyone is looking for a good book to read, right now I am reading _Beloved_, by Toni Morrison, and it is brilliant. I highly recommend.

Until next time!

-H


	28. The Head Students

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-eight: **The Head Students

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

**Recap SWD**: Frederick is spying on the Slytherins for Dumbledore. Voldemort has taken over the Daily Prophet and declared to the wizarding population that a death/attack per night is his new procedure for the time being. Vernette Ziegler is not the loyal Hufflepuff she should be. It has been confirmed that Severus is having 'relations' with Saloma Yaxley.

_Wednesday, September 1, 1976_

_10:45 a.m. _

"Have a good last year, darling," my mother cooed. Her warm mahogany eyes glinted and flashed against the late morning sunlight.

We were standing a little ways away from platform 9 ¾. My trunk and owl cage were piled around us, and every so often I would get an odd stare from a passing muggle.

My father thumped me congenially on the back. "Congratulations on being made Head Girl, love."

"I know, dad," I replied, a pleased smile tempting my lips. "You've already told me several times."

"We're just so proud of you," my mother said. She smiled widely. "I know how hard it is to be made Head Girl, I was Head Girl myself in my day."

"I know, mum," I said.

"We really enjoyed being shown so much of your other world," my mother continued. "It was very fascinating."

She had told me this several times already. I just smiled and nodded. It was so nice to spend time with my parents alone, without Petunia, but they really were full of redundancies.

My father checked his watch and said "better get a move on."

"Yes, you really should," my mother agreed, nodding her head. "Can you carry everything?"

My trunk had wheels, and I had released Lotte to fly on her own, so of course I could.

"Yes, mum." I reached up and kissed her on the cheek. I did the same for my father, they hugged my one last time, and then I turned away to walk towards the platform.

"Be safe dear," my mother said.

"Don't be too hard on the little ones," my father said sternly, with a hint of laughter present in his deep voice.

I turned around and waved one last time, smiling widely and graciously before melting into the platform. My parents faded away from view.

I turned around, excited and anxious to board the train. It was true: I had been made Head Girl. I received the news 2 days after Petunia's wedding, and my parents had taken me out for a very expensive, fine dining experience in the heart of London. I thought back to it with fond memories. I pulled my trunk forward, and was soon lost in the crowds of students, their families, and their pets.

I found an empty compartment towards the back of the train as usual, settled my stuff, grabbed my Head Girl pin, and then headed up to the front for the prefects meeting I was to co-host.

I wondered who was Head Boy. I was expecting someone like Dexter Adams, or maybe Remus. I wouldn't have any problem working with either of them, although Dexter was a bit of a know-it-all.

It was very hard to navigate the crowded halls, and a few people gave my pin dirty looks, but finally I rounded the corner into the prefect's compartment. Emmeline Vance was sitting by the window, and when she spotted my badge she squealed with delight.

"Congratulations, Lily! I knew you would make Head Girl."

I blushed, and a few other people came over to congratulate me. I spotted Remus, and noted he was without Head Boy badge, and I frowned a bit. I sought out Dexter, and noted the same. My frown grew.

"Emmeline, who do you think is Head Boy?"

"I have no idea," she replied. Severus had not yet arrived in the compartment, and I began to warm to the idea he was Head Boy and had not told me so as to surprise me. I sat down next to Emmeline then to wait for him.

But when he strolled in, he also was not wearing a badge. I frowned again, and looked around curiously. "It must be someone other than us prefects," I said off-handedly to Emmeline.

A few minutes later, a voice announced departure in one minute's time. I began to chew my lip in anxious worry. There was no way I could, or even wanted to, head my first ever prefects meeting on my own. The train lurched into movement and Dexter stood up to close the compartment door when at the last minute someone slid in, breathless, sweaty and flushed. It took me a couple long seconds to snap back to reality.

There was no way.

**No way.**

There he stood, tall and thin, hair blacker and messier than ever, glasses glinting and reflecting the late morning sun pouring through the window, a Head Boy badge pinned on his white button-down shirt, his tie neatly knotted, an Adam's apple underneath his natural one.

James Potter.

I licked my lips.

What on earth had Dumbledore been thinking? Several people around me seemed to be wondering the same thing. Severus looked furious, and Dexter Adams looked very, very annoyed. I didn't blame him one little bit. He had worked his arse off in the hopes he would be Head Boy. Remus was smiling though, and standing up to congratulate one of his closest friends. Jake James, Hufflepuff's seventh year prefect, stood up to congratulate him as well. I just kept staring at him, my mouth gaping open, disbelief and confusion and anger taking turns swarming around my brain like irate bees around a disturbed hive.

"Might want to shut your mouth, Evans," James said, a smile quirking his mouth. "Wouldn't want a billywig to fly in and sting your uvula, then what use would you be in our first meeting?"

I shut my mouth and glared at him.

"Congratulations on Head Girl, by the way," he continued. "Although everyone already knew _you_ would be Head Girl."

"You, on the other hand-" I started to say, but he cut in with, "I know, I know, big surprise right? Let's get over the shock and on with this meeting. Why hasn't anyone started eating?"

Everyone looked at one another muttering, and then stood up to eat. I remained sitting, glaring up at Potter who, after a few minutes, moved out of the way of the catering table and strode over to sit in Emmeline's vacated seat.

I ignored him until he spoke.

"You know, Evans," he started. "You could either get used to the idea of me being Head Boy now, and we can start the year off to an okay start, or you can spend the first half of the year hating me and the idea. Either way, don't let it disrupt our delegation, and the Prefect meetings." He moved away from me before I could respond.

Everyone was sitting down again with their food, and I stood up and brushed off my jeans with irritation. I stole a glance at Severus, and we shared an annoyed and incredulous look before I went to stand next to Potter and the small table of catered food.

"Hello, everyone," he started. "I hope you all had a good summer. Welcome to the new fifth-year prefects, I hope you are up to the challenge that lies ahead. As you can see, the Hogs Head Inn graciously provided our luncheon today. Would anyone like to volunteer to write an appreciation letter?"

Aya Bartholomew, a Hufflepuff sixth year, eagerly raised her hand and nodded.

"Bartholomew it is, then," James said cheerily. "Get it to Evans or I by the end of the week please." She nodded again enthusiastically.

And James went on and on about the Prefect duties, some new rules for the year that we should know about before the rest of the student body. I didn't speak much at all, not because I didn't know how to conduct a Prefect's meeting, but because I was still shocked Potter had been made Head Boy, and I was wondering how? Who in their right mind would make James Potter Head Boy? And had he memorized the prefect's manual over the summer? It sure seemed like it.

It may seem I'm harping on and on about this, but I just wasn't sure how I was supposed to react. And he was conducting the meeting! Acting like an adult! This was something I had never thought possible. I began wondering if it was all a joke. And he had some nerve, talking to me like that. I hoped he didn't honestly suffer the delusion he and I could conduct civilly.

"See you all next Monday in the atrium off the Great Hall. Meeting adjourned."

The compartment quickly cleared out; Severus didn't even stay to walk me back to my compartment. Potter stayed behind to clean up a few stray plates lounging around on the benches, and I stood by the door, my arms crossed, a hip cocked to one side, watching him. He was tall: he and Severus were both probably around the same height, Severus maybe half an inch taller than Potter. I liked tall guys, seeing as how I was 5'9 and seemed to tower over many of the other boys in our year. Potter was tall and lithe and lanky, his slight frame illuminating just how big his head really was.

"I can't believe Dumbledore made you Head Boy," I said.

"Yeah, well, believe it," he replied shortly. "Cause here I am, Head Boy and all."

I shook my head in disbelief, and turned to walk out of the compartment, but he grabbed my arm, pulled me back in, and slid the compartment door shut in one graceful movement.

"What are you-" I started, but he shut me up by shoving me against the frosted, opaque windowpanes in the door and he kissed my mouth.

"Uh!" I groaned in protest, but his hands encircling my arms were tight and forceful, and even though I was fighting with my upper body, I couldn't escape his grasp.

"Will you stop moving?" he demanded, stalling his accost on my mouth for a few seconds to glare down at me. I snarled back up at him, and he quirked a grin. "Feisty?"

"Not even in your dreams, Potter," I spat.

He chuckled a bit. "You have no idea what's in my dreams." And then he bent his head back down a bit again to kiss my mouth some more. This time, he forced my lips open, and his tongue found mine. His mouth tasted like shrimp and cocktail sauce, and before he could get any further, I bit down on his lip, hard. I immediately tasted blood.

"Ah, Evans, damn it!" he said loudly, pushing away from me violently. He touched a finger to his broken lip and brought away blood. "My lip's gonna be swollen for a bloody week now!"

"Keep your hands to yourself then," I said viciously. "You great bloody arsehole!" And without further ado, I opened the compartment door violently. One of the glass panes shattered and fell to the carpet, and I rushed back up the hall towards the rear of the train, barely missing the cart lady as I sped past.

I slipped into my still-empty compartment, slid the door shut, and collapsed onto one of the benches, breathing heavily.

My lips tingled, my heart raced, my cheeks were hot (I assumed the latter two bodily responses were due to my frantic running). My chest heaved, I couldn't breathe. I turned my head to look out the window, but my eyes glazed over and I failed to focus.

What was Potter's deal? And how could I share Head duties with him, if he was going to keep acting like that?

* * *

"Miss Evans!" I heard loudly from behind me. "Miss Evans!" I turned around and stopped in the mass of students: I was a boulder in a flowing tide. They surged around me and I stared back towards McGonagall's voice.

I moved back into the Great Hall after most of the students had walked past me. The Welcoming Feast was over, and I had been walking Severus in the entrance hall when she had called my name.

"Miss Evans, don't you know you are expected to meet with your Head of House and the Headmaster after the feast?" she asked sternly. Potter was standing next to her, his arms crossed over his chest. I refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Professor. It must have slipped my mind."

"Very well," she sniffed. "Follow me." And she led us upwards to Dumbledore's office. I passed Severus in the front hall, who had been waiting to take a walk with me. I just shrugged my shoulders at him and kept walking. He looked very annoyed.

We all sat down in huge, sinking armchairs in a corner of Dumbledore's office, next to a curtained window.

"Congratulations, the both of you, for being awarded Head Status," Dumbledore said, nodding in our general direction. He was focused on a portrait above our heads though.

"Professor Dumbledore, I am curious about the location of the rooms. Do you honestly think it's appropriate for them to be connected the way they are?" McGonagall asked. I had no idea what she was talking about.

Dumbledore moved his head down to look directly at McGonagall. "Minerva, we have discussed this already. I do not think Miss Evans and Mr. Potter will have any trouble defending their integrity, given the state of their relationship. Additionally, it is merely a convenience. They can collaborate together regarding Head decisions, et cetera. I think the arrangement will function very well in their favor. I am sorry you disagree, but it is for the best."

"Professor Dumbledore," I interjected. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you're talking about."

"We are discussing your rooming assignments. Head Students are usually not from the same house, and so their rooming situations are usually on separate parts of the castle. However, given this special circumstance, I see no reason why Mr. Potter and yourself cannot share some sort of accommodations."

"What do you mean, share?"

"You will each have your own bedroom, of course, as well as your own bathroom. However, your rooms will be connected to the same Common Room, which exists adjacent to your main and larger Gryffindor Common Room."

"I will share no such thing with Potter!" I said vehemently. "**Absolutely not!**"

"But Miss Evans," McGonagall said. "You have shared a Common Room with him for the last six years. It shouldn't be too different, I don't think."

"Aside from that fact, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Miss Evans, you cannot protest the arrangements. They have already been made; your personal effects are already in your respective rooms. Do either of you have any questions regarding your duties?"

"I don't," I answered. "But I fancy Potter has quite a few. He has no idea how to be Head Boy."

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore said, inclining his head towards James.

"I'm comfortable with my knowledge, Headmaster," Potter replied respectfully. "If I have questions, I will come directly to you or Professor McGonagall before acting."

I rolled my eyes and turned my head away from them all in disgust and annoyance.

"Very well. I would like to discuss your relationship with each other before we retire for the evening," he continued. "Now, there is no one in this school who fails to comprehend the animosity between the two of you, except perhaps a few brand new first years. The rivalry the two of you share is epic. I, as headmaster of this school, have never seen anything quite like this between two students before. It is unprecedented. While I respect your relationship, and it's many intricacies and oddities, I will not tolerate this affecting your ability to keep order and content among the students. If, for any reason, your relationship does cause problems, I will not give you a second chance. I will immediately demote you and replace you with the runner-ups, namely Dexter Adams and Tori Shelser. Now, if you would like to retain your Head status, you will simply have to pretend to tolerate one another when it counts." He smiled at us both, waiting for us to node in assent. Potter nodded immediately, and I grudgingly.

"Very well," he said congenially. "Professor McGonagall will lead you to your rooms shortly. Could you please wait in the outer room while I speak with her for a few moments?"

We stood and went out towards the outer door. I ignored Potter completely, and chose instead to occupy myself with the odd looking instruments Dumbledore had strewn around on tables and shelves. They made charming noises and released puffs of gas. I didn't quite understand their purpose.

"Come along Miss Evans and Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. She bustled through the outer room and we followed her down the revolving staircase and up towards Gryffindor Tower.

"You both heard Dumbledore," McGonagall said. "You will no longer be allowed to carry on the way you once did. This means no more outstanding rows in the Common Room or the halls: you must act like a unified team, in order to encourage your subordinates to do the same. I will not tolerate dissent."

I didn't feel the need to answer her, and apparently neither did Potter. Finally, we crested the seventh floor, but instead of leading us towards the Common Room entrance, she led us down another, infrequently used and dimly lit corridor towards an inconspicuous door.

"This is the entrance to your rooms," she said. She took out two keys, handed one to each of us, and said a quick spell. "Now, each of your keys will only respond to you. Only you will be able to open the door with your respective key, so take care not to lose it. Go ahead, one of you, and let us in."

Potter stepped forward and unlocked the door, and led us into a small, cozy looking Common Room decorated in Gryffindor colors.

"This is usually only reserved for one student, but given the circumstances, the house-elves were instructed to make it larger."

My eyes swept the area. There was a small fireplace, 3 couches, a couple armchairs, several rugs, throw pillows and blankets, and several décor tables. The walls were covered in portraits and landscapes, and above the fireplace was a huge window, curtained now with heavy burgundy drapes. On either side of the fireplace was a small door, leading presumably up into separate towers where we would room.

"I would like to draw your attention to this door over here," McGonagall said. "This door leads directly into the Common Room, so you can access it immediately in case of emergency. I know you may feel a bit removed from the rest of the student body, and so you may use your fireplace to floo directly into any common room, or the Headmaster's office, or mine. Any questions?"

Neither of us said anything.

"Very well, I will leave you for the evening. Good night."

"Good night," we chorused, and she strode out. The door locked behind her.

I turned and looked directly at Potter. "If you ever try anything like what happened today on the train again, I will hex you into oblivion, and don't think I won't. Potter, I don't like you, and I never will. So just stop it. And if you come within 10 feet of my room, I will know immediately. Do not tempt the wards I will place on my door, because they are serious."

He didn't say anything, and so I just turned and walked up the stairs to my room.

After layering eight different types of locking hexes, deterrent charms, and silencing spells, I responded to the incessant taping on one of my windows. Audra flew in, slicing through me with a piercing glare. She landed on the back of my desk chair, a note held in her beak.

She flew away as I read what Severus had to say.

_What did McGonagall and Dumbledore say? I can't believe Potter made Head Boy, that great git. What are your rooms like? I heard Head students get separate rooms and all. _

I decided against telling Severus about Potter kissing me on the train, or about the room situation. He would never have to find out, and he would be irate just knowing about it.

* * *

And so my classes began. My schedule was generally the same as last year's. I spent as much time in the potions lab as possible. A minimum of 1000 hours of independent lab time was required of students on the Potion's tract, to be split between the two NEWT years. I had accomplished 400 last year, and was regretting my inattention to the lab; this year was guaranteed to be difficult.

Marlena Figg was also no longer teaching Defense. She had received a job offer from a foreign ministry encouraging her to travel and do research, and of course she had obliged. Arabella had told me all of this in a letter over the summer. Her absence just pressed more heavily upon the absence I still felt in my life. The hole in me the Figgs left behind may never be filled.

I found my days to be very structured. This was a way I had not previously conducted my life, but it certainly worked. My class schedule, extracurriculars, and study time demanded rigid adherence and discipline. Anything otherwise would result in my total failure. I was probably being dramatic, but my apocalyptic vision certainly hung over me like this at times.

I rarely spent time in the Head common quarters, and I never studied in there. I preferred the library, to which I was permitted access now regardless of Madam Pince's presence or not. Being the top in my class, Head Girl, model muggleborn that I was, I was granted twenty-four hour access to the library and all of its books, including unlimited access to the restricted section. It was something I came to take great advantage of. If I wasn't locked in my room, or the potions lab, I was to be found in the library, slaving over research, books, essays, assignments. I was so immersed in my studies I rarely made time for others.

September slipped away before I even realized it was here, and October was well under way. The days were getting much shorter, and much colder, and much prettier. I preferred the month of October over any other month. Quidditch had started with October, but I did not plan on attending any games over the course of the school year. I didn't even know who was on the Gryffindor team any more. Several players had been in their seventh year last year, and were needless to say gone. Potter had probably been made captain as well. I ignored Potter, only acknowledging his presence during Prefect meetings, and at other times required of me.

Access to Hogsmeade was still forbidden. Dumbledore had requested Potter and I plan another Halloween Ball much like the last, but I had yet to even initiate discussions with Potter regarding it. I had a simple vision, involving 1000 candles, huge pumpkins, semi-formal dress, music, and a small bit of food. Potter had already approached me several times regarding the party, and I usually shot daggers at him every time he brought it up.

I had come to despise social gatherings. I could barely stand to be around myself, let alone other people.

I didn't quite understand what had overcome me in September. I may have undergone a complete transformation. I couldn't stand to be in the Gryffindor common room, I could barely stand to eat at Gryffindor table. I began to eat less and less, and must have shed ten pounds alone in September.

Severus and I still studied together, still flirted, still took walks in the cold. The tension between the two of us may have been strung tighter than ever, but I failed to notice. All I could concentrate on was the vision in my head. My stomach was filled with lead, all of the time. And the lead got heavier and heavier, seemingly preparing more and more every day to drop out and leave me bowel-less.


	29. At Last

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Twenty-nine: **At Last

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_October 22, 1976_

_65 days_

"What are your opinions on testing potions on animals?"

Severus rolled his eyes as he added a small amount of water to his cooling potion.

"Well?"

Considering Severus allowed and encouraged Audra to hunt voles and other rodents he kept in a cage under his bed, he had no convictions against testing potions on plain, simple animals. He did, however, see it unethical to keep and breed large, magical creatures for this sole purpose. He repeated this aloud.

"I don't think so. How are you supposed to really see the effects of a magical potion on a plain, muggle animal? No, the only way you can really see how an ingredient or change to your potion works is to use it against magic. That is how potions work, anyway. They interact with the magic in the body."

Severus ground his teeth. He knew that, of course he did. It was not as plain and simple as those words, though.

"Generally speaking," he replied. "If you make the potion potent enough, it will force itself to interact with a simple animal's blood. It's as simple as that: you merely need to increase the ingredients in the potion that you are altering, or those ingredients that cause the effect you are hoping to see. This will, in turn, dilute the other ingredients and you can observe the effects in a controlled setting."

It was quiet for a while in his lab then, as the few potions he had sitting around on fires simmered and popped. His eyes were very dry and tired: he had now been functioning for over 48 hours, fueled by only an extra strong enervating charm he had invented himself.

He had several projects due to the Dark Lord in very little time. He had under 12 hours left to complete the potions he had been assigned, and it was going to be close. Nothing he had submitted to the Dark Lord had been less than perfect, the only exemption being the first potion that Saloma and he had submitted close to a year ago.

"Is there anything I can do to help you speed along the process?" she asked.

"No," Severus replied, chuckling a little bit with his back turned. "Honestly, Saloma, you aren't that great when it comes to Potions."

"What are you on about? I got Outstanding on my O.W.L.'s!"

"That really means nothing."

"And I developed most of the theory we used for the Dark Lord last fall."

"Theory that in the end produced no good results."

She scuffed and left the Room then, presumably to go back home. She didn't, after all, belong at Hogwarts any more.

Severus had no real idea why he showed her his lab. She had been asking him for months to show her where he brewed, and he had finally obliged, if nothing else just to get her to shut up.

He just kept brewing.

* * *

He emerged 11 hours later, towing a small bag full of his prepared potions. He felt awful, and was positively sure he looked worse than he felt. He was weighed down by a film of fumes and oil coagulated on his skin, a web of stringy and gooey filaments connected pore to pore. He hurried to the Owlery and located Audra among the rafters, whistling down to her softly. He charmed the bag to be extra light, attached it to one of her legs, gave her a small pat on the head, and then she was off, racing towards the Dark Lord.

He walked over to the window and stared out over the grounds, which were beautiful and illuminating. The sun was just coming up, touching its golden light upon the rich colors of autumn. He breathed in the crisp air tinged with dried, dead leaf and wood smoke, and marveled at the mountain peaks. It was only Saturday, and he had tons of neglected work to do, but he could stand there for hours, staring out into the trees.

* *

He walked into the library, laden down with his Potions work for Slughorn. He had two 2-foot essays due on Monday, and a theoretical write-up due later that evening to his Professor. Students were bent over their work, and Madam Pince stalked around in between the rows of tables, keeping order. He turned left and walked through the stacks, up two flights of stairs, kept left, walked through more stacks, and stopped short. He was headed towards his and Lily's study corner, and he was very close, but he heard voices. And not a combination of voices he would ever have expected to hear. Lily's floated up over the bookshelves, accompanied by Tori's, and Judith and Rebeca's laughter followed shortly after. He narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, and started moving again towards the corner.

"Severus!" Lily exclaimed when he revealed himself. "Come, sit, sit." Severus looked around, seeing that there were only 4 chairs, all occupied. Tori quickly transformed a book off the shelf near her into a chair and stuck it in between her and Lily, gesturing over for him to join them.

"What is going on here?" Severus asked bluntly.

"What in Merlin's name does it look like Severus?" Tori asked. "We're studying."

Severus glanced at Lily confusedly. She just smiled widely back at him. He moved around the table and sat in the new chair, gingerly at first to test it for sturdiness.

"I didn't get one of the highest scores on my O.W.L.'s in transfiguration for nothing, Severus," Tori jibbed.

"Would you like to explain to me what is going on?" Severus quickly whispered in Lily's ear as he bent down to take a few books out of his bag.

"Tori already told you," Lily replied.

First name basis? Clearly Severus had missed a lot the last couple of weeks, but who could blame him. His brewing had become something of a parasite. He would have to ask her later. Now, though, he had to focus. And it was quite difficult with their constant chatter.

"The Halloween Ball is a little over a week away," Tori gushed. "Lily, who are you going with?"

"Severus, of course," Lily replied.

Severus' stomach dropped about two feet. This was the first he had heard of this. He had already begun conniving ways in which he could wiggle his way out of the Ball.

"Right?" She turned to him, her huge green eyes swimming beneath her glasses.

He choked a little bit.

"Severus, please," she said. "I didn't think this was something we had to discuss."

"No, of course it isn't," he finally spat out. Lily looked at him strangely.

"Anyway," she said, turning back to the other girls. "Who are you girls going with?"

"Well, of course I'm going with Dexter," Judith said. They had been dating since last Christmas time. Tori made a face.

"Thomas asked me," Rebeca said, blushing a little bit.

"Thomas Gamble?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," she replied, a small smile playing around her lips.

"You, Tori?" Judith inquired.

"I don't have a date yet," she replied. "I'm not worried, either. I find someone, or I don't. I could care less either way."

Severus wondered internally that if she didn't care, why did she feel the need to announce that she didn't care.

They chattered away some more, and Severus effectively began tuning it out. This worked well for about 20 minutes. He could hear their nonproductivity in the background, but he was Occluding and it wasn't affecting him. Until Lily did something so strange and uncharacteristic that he almost choked on his uvula for the second time in the last hour.

She crept her hand over to his leg, and gently began rubbing it. And then gently turned into fervently, and then fervently turned into vehemently. She was getting dangerously close to the spot where the legs of his pants met one another, and he was beginning to sweat. He could feel it dripping down his back, and across his chest.

She continued doing this, talking the whole while, acting towards the girls as if nothing strange was going on. Severus was having a very hard time focusing, but finally he forced himself back into Occluding. He copied down a few important figures from his text book, and this worked fine for several minutes.

Until her fingers innocently and very lightly brushed over his groin.

He shot up out of his seat; he was sure his face was flustered and beat red. Tori burst out laughing.

"Severus, what is your problem?"

"I just remembered something," he replied, gathering his books quickly and stuffing them into his bag. Lily stared up at him, her lips twisted in a funny but alluring way. "I'll meet you later, after dinner, okay?"

"Sure," she replied, turning back to her work.

He hurried out of the library then, and Madam Pince and several other students gave him funny looks as he flew past them. He almost bowled over a small second year girl at the entrance, but he kept going. He was breathing heavily, his heart practically lodged in his throat. And the arteries in his throat were racing, pounding blood through his neck.

She had never voluntarily brought her hand so close to his groin before. His heart beat faster and faster.

* * *

He stood outside the Great Hall, close to the front doors of the castle. It was a little after 7 p.m., and only a few students were left in the Hall. Finally, she wandered out alone, with her hair down. It fell around her like a cloak of burnished, pliable copper. She was reading a piece of parchment, and walked over to him slowly. She wasn't wearing any warm clothes though, like she usually did if they were going outside around the lake.

"How was your dinner?" she asked him. Before he could reply, she said quickly and quietly, "Can you take me to that room you showed me before?"

He looked down at her quizzically. He had taken her to many rooms before.

"You know, The Room, up on the seventh floor near Gryffindor tower?"

Oh. That room.

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "You don't want to go for a walk around the lake?"

"Nope. I just want to go to that room."

He didn't say anything, just turned and led the way up.

When they finally reached the space in the wall, she turned to him. "There was a door here before."

He explained the mechanics of the room.

"Okay," she replied. And she stared at the wall determinedly. A few moments later, an ordinary looking door appeared slowly and surely beneath the stonewall. She grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room.

He barely had time to register the bare nature of the room before she had pressed him against the now closed door. She stood up on her toes and kissed his mouth violently. Her left hand trailed down to grope and massage his groin. If she pressed her body against his anymore, he would be forced to become part of the stonewall.

He pushed her away a little bit, breaking their kiss. "Lily, what?"

"Just fuck me, Severus. I just want you to fuck me."

And he obliged.

* * *

Later, they laid on the floor, breathless and naked, their chests heaving. The room had paneless windows, and the air seeping into the room was cold. He could see it on her body, puckering her pores and nipples up. He stared up at the stone ceiling, his vision going dizzy as his head swam in the thin, cold air of the room. The stone floor was icy beneath his buttocks, but it felt good pressed against his sweating and hot body.

He wasn't going to ask her what caused her change of heart. He was afraid that if he asked her, she would reconsider, she would realize that she was way too good for him; that he would never actually deserve her. He would revel in her supplicating body for as long as he could. And when she finally realized what he knew one day she would realize, maybe he would be better equipped to handle it.

She rolled over onto her side, facing him, her head propped up by one of her hands. Her other hand traced the outline of his body gently and teasingly. She was biting her lip; her hair was rumpled in that incredible way a woman's hair can only be rumpled after sex. And he felt the desire again, and rolled over on top of her. They had the rest of the night, and all of Sunday to learn one another's bodies. He would find time to write his essays for Slughorn. This was ultimately more important. And he was glad she agreed.

* * *

Everything was falling into place. It would be perfect, he knew it could be perfect. She was friendly with Slytherins. He didn't know how this had happened, and he wasn't struck with the urge to ask her, for the same reasons he didn't feel the need to ask her about the sex. He just took it all in stride.

Of course, she wasn't friends with the Slytherins who mattered, like Jezebel and Virginia. He hoped that would one day become a possibility, though. He wondered if he was deluding himself royally. Could Lily Evans ever become friends with a girl like Jezebel Rosier? He felt Virginia wouldn't be much of a challenge, but Jezebel? He supposed that if she had opened herself up to Slytherins at all, had given her body to him in the way she had, anything was possible.

Severus and Lily had become a couple over night. And Lily had urged to Severus that she did not care what others thought.

"Let them think whatever they want," she had said. But Severus wondered if this was truly the best course of action.

"You aren't committed to anything, to anyone at all, are you?" She had asked. And he couldn't do anything but agree.

The Halloween Ball had arrived.

* * *

_Sunday, October 31, 1976_

_Early Evening_

For this ball, Severus had bought dress robes. They were black, but dressy. And he had bought nice shoes. And nice pants and a shirt and tie to go underneath it all. He observed himself in the mirror in his dormitory, and was quite pleased. He had even rubbed a little bit of musk on after his shave. He had forgone the oil for his hair, thinking that one day against the thousands of days he had applied it before then would not make a difference. And he was ready.

He descended to the Common Room, where his classmates lingered around the fire.

"Pulled out all the stops this year, didn't you Severus?" Jezebel jibbed. She was leaning against the mantle, her long legs hidden beneath an elegant, slim white dress. Her blonde hair was pulled back away from her face, exposing her perfect features. Next to her stood Virginia, who was equally sophisticated looking in a ball gown type dress, her hair pinned back into a low side bun.

"I think he looks fantastic," Tori said from the sofa. Her thick, fluffy hair was tamed for once, slicked back into a French twist, and her dress was short and busty.

"Thank you," he said politely. "And likewise."

Severus felt ultra sensitive to the females in the Common Room, and their choice of dress. He supposed he was merely anticipating seeing Lily.

The giant clock struck seven, and everyone moved as one unit towards the door. Severus found himself walking next to Frederick, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Snape," he said grimly, nodding his head a small amount.

"Wilkes," Severus replied, returning the nod. Frederick was dressed all in black, his dark red hair slicked back from his forehead. He escorted a thin sixth-year girl, Arien Sohn, a pureblood. She was quite pretty in the classic, pureblooded way. And very different from Josie Figg.

The Great Hall was iconic looking: one thousand candles hovered over them all, Hagrid's gigantic pumpkins haunted the corners, and the table was laden already with food. Everyone took their seats, and Severus had yet to catch sight of Lily. He was starting to wonder if she was even at the Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore stood up to announce dinner was over, and everyone else stood up. He dispelled of the tables and chairs, over half of the candles were snuffed out and the Gryffindor house band began to play an opening song.

"Before everyone else begins to dance, I would like to ask the Head Boy and Girl to share the first one," Dumbledore said.

Severus seethed. The crowd near the door parted, and through it walked Potter and Lily, not hand in hand, but closer than Severus would have liked. And Lily looked breathtaking.

Her dress rivaled molten gold. The back was open, and the train of the dress pooled behind her. Her red hair was piled on top of her head in some odd knot, and her neck was long and angled and full of lines. She looked like a ballerina. Severus' breath hitched in his throat.

They began to sway to the slow music. Potter had one of his hands curved around her hip, and her opposite arm was wrapped around his neck. They were talking, about what Severus did not know, but they were behaving civilly to one another. This was quite possibly the first time he and the rest of the student body had ever seen them regard one another with any kind of respect.

Severus couldn't quite figure out what was going on with Lily. First, he discovers her in amenable relations with three Slytherin girls. Then, she comes onto him in quite possibly the most erotic and sexy way possible. And finally, she openly consents to allowing Potter put his hands on her. His head was starting to spin a bit, the way it had that first time on the stone floor in the Room.

He felt as if he had been absent in her life for a year. In under a month she had undergone the changes it might usually take someone at least a year to undergo.

She was facing him then, her head fitting perfectly in the curve formed by Potter's neck. She smiled at him. And then the dance was over.

Potter and Lily parted, another song struck up, and Lily sauntered over to stand next to him. Jezebel and Evan went to dance, and Frederick went to have a dance with one of his sisters.

"Have a good time?" Severus asked her coldly.

"Severus, please," Lily replied.

"You seem to be on good terms with Potter."

"I have to be. You wouldn't imagine the kind of threats Dumbledore issued to the both of us."

"I'm sure Potter enjoyed that," Severus said, referring to the dance.

"I'm sure he did." She turned her body so it was in front of him, she wrapped both of her arms around his neck, and she slid her hips up to fight snugly into his. "Now, let everyone stare," she whispered in his ear. "And they can see what _I_ enjoy."

And they danced then, slowly and sensually. His hands gripped her curvy waist, and his fingers fell into the small of her back. Her neck was moist with sweat, and he kissed it at times, if only to taste the salt that came away on his lips. And everyone did stare, incredulously.

A/N: Comments welcome- review please! Thanks a lot for reading.


	30. Interlude, Emily Leach 2

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty: **Interlude, Emily Leach

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be.

"_And after all this time that you still owe/You're still a good-for-nothing I don't know"-Gerard Way_

_Wednesday, November 10, 1976_

Emily knew she had to do something. This wasn't about some stupid girl fooling herself into believing her boyfriend wasn't cheating on her.

Lily Evans was being an absolute, bloody idiot.

Emily could see it. It was staring her in the face right that instant. And it was really, royally pissing her off.

There they all were, in Defense class. Emily was seated next to Morgan, of course, who was diligently taking notes, and not noticing that Emily was uncharacteristically not. A couple rows in front of Emily sat Snape and Wilkes, the Death Eater bastards. It made her blood boil just to lay eyes on them. And then there was Lily, sitting one row back from Snape, and kitty cornered to the left of Emily. And she was blatantly not taking notes. Her head was perched on her hand, and she was blatantly staring at Snape.

For the whole bloody world to see.

It was as if she had entered a different dimension. One where Death Eater's and murderous psycho-paths named Lord Voldemort didn't exist. Something had broken off in her brain, and was floating around in her cranial fluids. Like a piece of plastic broken off a toy. And now her brain no longer functioned. She was officially dysfunctional.

Emily could feel her face getting redder and redder by the second. She squeezed her quill so hard it snapped in half, and Morgan looked up, startled. Ink was now all over her hands, and had sprayed all over her clothes, neck, face and hair. And her palm was remotely in pain, and blood was mixing with the ink. A sharp edge from her broken quill had split the surface of her hand.

"What's the matter?" Morgan asked softly.

She ignored him. She was trying so hard to squash the feeling down. But she couldn't. This wasn't like the innocent deaths she had suffered. This was, in a way, so much worse.

"Emily, your hand," he said, a little louder.

"Shut up," she said. A couple people around her turned their heads to stare at her, but she continued staring at Lily, who hadn't so much as flinched when Emily had spoken. She was still staring at Snape, in her little fantasy world. Emily hovered on the cusp. Her eyes were starting to twitch.

"Emily, let me help you with that," Morgan said.

"Morgan, so help me God," Emily said, quite loudly this time. Everyone, including Lily and the professor, looked back then.

"Miss Leach, can I help you with something?"

"No, Professor," Emily replied. "No one can." And she locked eyes with Lily, and stared so hard she could feel her eyes burning. Lily stared back vehemently.

"Miss Leach, you are excused for the day," the Professor said hesitantly. "Why don't you go up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can have a look at your hand."

Emily got up without a word, not releasing Lily's gaze until she had to turn around towards the door, which she slammed shut on the way out.

She strode quickly down the hall towards the hospital wing. When she got there, Madam Pomfrey was administering several doses of Pepper-Up potion to a group of first and second years. Emily hung back a little bit, and waited patiently, glad to be rid of Lily's presence.

"Snapped my quill," Emily explained curtly.

Madam Pomfrey cleaned it up without another word, and wrapped it in gauze in case it remained sore, but Madam Pomfrey's work was perfect, seamless.

"Would you like a note for your next class?"

"No thank you, ma'am. I have a free period."

"Very well, you're all set."

"Thank you."

Emily exited the ward slowly, taking care not to slam the door behind her. Across from the door stood Lily, her head bent low, a cascade of rust colored hair pouring out of the nape of her neck. When the door snapped shut, Lily lifted her head slowly, her green eyes narrowed in distaste.

Emily did all she could think to do in that instant. She walked quickly over to Lily, raised her left hand, and slapped her square across the face. The impact wasn't as strong as it might have been if she used her right hand, but the sound still echoed through the hall, and left a glaring red handprint across her cheek. And Emily's hand stung, a lot.

Lily looked incredulous, and hurt, and full of rage.

"How dare you-"

"Don't speak," Emily hissed, interrupting her. "Don't even look at me."

Lily's mouth hung open, but she didn't say anything.

"Why did you follow me up here?"

"Why were you staring daggers at me in class?"

"Why do you think, you stupid girl? What on earth are you doing with Severus Snape?"

"I don't really see how that is any of your business, seeing as how you have ignored me for almost a year now."

"Oh, it is my business, Evans," Emily replied nastily. "Do you think I want to see someone I once considered a sister royally insult the memory of someone I will always consider a sister, no matter that she's dead?"

"You don't know anything about Severus, and you don't know anything about Frederick, and I dare you to stop pretending you do."

"I know more than you think you know," Emily said. She was practically spitting with anger.

"You know nothing. You certainly don't know anything about Severus, and I'm starting to wonder if you even know anything about me. Don't talk to me again, and leave me alone about Severus. How dare you treat me like this." And Lily left without another word, striding down the hall purposely.

Emily was left staring after her, wondering if what she had done was right, wrong, or just plain invasive.


	31. Neutral Grounds and Reconciliation

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-one: **Neutral Grounds and Finally, Reconciliation

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_There will be no regrets when the worms come, and they will surely come." Third Eye Blind _

You're probably asking yourself at this point, what the hell is going on? And I don't blame you. Honestly, I'm having a hard time figuring it out myself. The truth is, I needed a change of pace. I realized back in October I didn't like who I was becoming. I was the cookie-cutter image of a despondent, wraith-like girl who would perhaps never realize who she ultimately was. And I couldn't live like that forever. I had always been smart. It was time to get smarter.

And now you're probably thinking to yourself, 'befriending Slytherin girls isn't too smart at all.' But honestly, those girls aren't really Slytherin. I mean technically they are, sure. But not where it matters. Judith and Rebeca were both muggle-born, for Christ's sake, just like me. And Tori had a muggle mother. How can this even be possible, you ask. How can students even be sorted into Slytherin if they aren't purebloods? After all, isn't that all Salazar Slytherin stood for?

Tori sorted things out for me, though, rather well.

"_No Evans," she started, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I mean, look at Severus, for Merlin's sake. The hat doesn't know whether or not you're pureblood, unless you let it know. That means volunteering that information to it. I myself had a very interesting conversation with the hat. You know the traits boasted in Slytherin, don't you? Cunning, ambition, determination. One certainly doesn't have to be pureblooded to possess those traits." _

And she was right. I don't even know what had changed my mind regarding those three girls. One day, I had wandered over to the Potions section, where Severus and I usually studied, and Tori, Rebeca and Judith had been sitting there, books spread all over the table. Tori immediately cleared a space for me, and I started to wonder if I should keep true the promise I had made her months ago: that we were never going to study together again. But I sat down, and we studied together in relative, albeit awkward, silence.

At times I would go to that study table in the corner of the library and the three girls would be there, and other times they wouldn't be, but seeing how we were all 7th years, we spent a lot of time in the library studying. The first few times we studied together felt weird, but we slowly warmed to one another. Sometimes Tori would attempt conversation, but Judith would immediately shush her. Judith seemed to be the most studious, and Tori usually heeded Judith's wishes, despite her [Tori's] tendency towards bossiness.

The whole arrangement just seemed strange to me. I didn't understand why they felt a need for my company. They would receive hell from the other Slytherins for it. Seeing as how I was practically ostracized from my own house, I really had nothing to lose, and I began not to care either way what my housemates felt regarding my decisions. Maybe they would have, or did, think I was acting foolish. I was just doing whatever I felt like. Maybe it wasn't what I wanted to do precisely, but it was an option available to me at the moment, so I capitalized on it.

And the girls weren't that bad, in all honesty. Tori was bossy and rude, Judith was sweet when she wasn't yelling at Tori to shut up, and Rebeca was quiet. And they slowly began to grow on me as the weeks wore on. It's not as though we were finishing one another's sentences or anything, but their company was okay. Tolerable.

My head girl room was medium sized. Lotte liked it, and took to staying there instead of the Owlery now, especially since there were no cats to bother her. I had my own little balcony, which had a little wood stove I fell in love with immediately. Thankfully, Potter's balcony appeared to be on the other side of the tower, so I didn't even have to hear his voice.

Which actually wasn't bothering me as much as it used to. His voice, I mean. And I was slowly starting to see why Dumbledore had appointed him Head Boy, loathe as I was to admit it. Potter was a very good leader, and an excellent public speaker. He also stopped tormenting other students, and acted as though Severus simply didn't exist. Of course, this was almost as bad as treating him like dung, but I'm sure Severus didn't see it this way. I was practically forced to treat him with a sort of grudging respect because of this.

Potter did approach me several times about the Halloween Ball, and not even to ask me to go as his date. Honestly, the last time he had made any sort of advance towards me had been on the train. And this pleased me immensely. He didn't once tempt my wards.

Finally, about a week before the Ball, we sat down and discussed the logistics. 1000 candles, the pumpkins, a feast, Gryffindor's House band. What else did we need? Dumbledore helped us finalize all of the details, and had then broached the subject of the Head Boy/Head Girl first dance. And surprisingly, I had not really cared. Potter and I decided on a simple, basic waltz, and had left it at that. I'm pretty sure we left Dumbledore shocked as ever, but that was part of the arrangement, correct? That we were to conduct ourselves as adults? And now we were finally falling into these roles. The dance hadn't even been that bad, either, as Potter was an excellent dancer, and a very good conversationalist when he wasn't being an arrogant toerag. Which he wasn't anymore. At least not when I was around. I found it so strange that only one summer could change a person that much.

And then there was the whole "Severus, fuck me" thing. I'm sure you're wondering about that. Prudish Lily, saying things like that? Well, to be honest with you, this falls into my new I-don't-care-about-anything-anymore-only-what-I-want outlook and philosophy on life. And at that moment, that was what I wanted.

Going to the Ball so openly with Severus had not been such a big deal in any case. Most of the student body was cognizant of our feelings for one another, and I felt like I wasn't taking that big of a risk by doing it. This may be foolish of me, and maybe I'll regret it later, but this is now, not later. So I didn't care.

Although we had taken our relationship to an all-new level, I did not see very much of him. He had a lot more lab time under his belt than me, and so spent his time doing other things, although I couldn't really tell you what these other things were, because I didn't know.

* * *

McGonagall called me into her office in early November.

"Miss Evans," she began crisply. "Would you like tea, biscuits?"

"Umm… sure?" I answered hesitantly. I still didn't know what this was all about.

"Young lady," she said, as soon as we were both tucked in to a biscuit. "I'm a little concerned about your future. You can do pretty much anything you please- you certainly have the marks for it. However, I'm just curious as to which career path you will be pursuing. I understand you are interested in writing, and you have gone to several weekend-long seminars devoted to this purpose. Have these brought you closer to a decision? What about research in Potions?"

"I honestly don't know, Professor. Is it really that important that I decide now? I mean, after all, we won't really know what we are suited for until after we get our N.E.W.T. scores. And those aren't for months, you know."

"Of course I know that, Miss Evans," McGonagall sniffed hurriedly. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to plan something out. At least give me something to work with, so that I can stop worrying so much about what the graduating Head Girl of Hogwarts plans on doing with her life."

When put that way, I guess it did sound a little scary.

"Well, I might move back home with my parents for a little bit, do some writing."

"What sort of writing do you like to do?"

"Umm, mainly political themes, pieces criticizing government."

"You should try to broaden your scope a little bit."

"Maybe. I'm inspired by other things, sure. But politics really gets my pen going."

"You aren't interested in Potion's research?"

"Maybe as a last resort," I replied. "I'm actually interested in trying something out with both Potions and Charms. I mean, of course Charms play a pivotal role in more advanced Potions, but I would really like to do research involving the two. You know how much I love Charms."

"Yes, I wish you would devote more of your energy to Transfiguration."

I just sucked on my biscuit some more.

"I suppose that's all, Miss Evans. Is there anything you wished to discuss with me?"

"Not particularly. I will always update you regarding my career decisions, though. And of course, you will be one of the first I ask for recommendations."

"And I would be more than happy to supply you with one."

I smiled warmly. "Thanks for the tea and biscuits."

"Any time."

And that had been that. The poor woman was most decidedly right, though. I did need to figure out what I was doing post-graduation.

* * *

Then, Emily had gone completely ballistic on me. You were there, you witnessed the entire thing. After what happened outside the Hospital Wing, she began pulling away from everyone, even Morgan. I didn't see her anywhere around the castle for an entire week except during the few classes we had with one another. She was clearly not eating, or was eating at a different time from everyone else, and during classes she always sat by herself, in the back of the room. I was starting to feel quite sad for her, and was even beginning to consider approaching her in the hopes of reconciliation. This may surprise you, especially after witnessing my reaction to her dramatics outside the Hospital wing. However, she had been at one point, after all, someone I considered a sister, and I felt like soon I would need her very badly. Did it really have to go on this long?

I thought it through for quite some time. She was infinitely difficult to approach, especially now that she had alienated even her boyfriend. I would have to be very smart about it. She was a dung bomb, just waiting for the right opportunity to explode, and I did not wish to be the unfortunate soul she splattered with shit.

So one day I just decided to do it. To wait in her room until she came back from classes. I could do that, after all. I was Head Girl.

* * *

_Thursday, November 18, 1976_

_Late Afternoon_

The seventh year girl's dormitory was neat as a pin. There were only three girls living in the dormitory then, and so the beds had been expanded, and the living area each girl was normally allotted was significantly larger. Emily's bed had been dragged over near a window, and the curtains had been yanked shut, but I opened them. Then I charmed the door to deter Hazel and Mary from coming back to their rooms. And then I waited.

While I waited, I looked around the room a little bit. I kind of missed sleeping in the room with all the girls, but then I remembered how awful last spring had been. Emily had tacked up a bunch of pictures all around her desk that Madison had drawn. The dexterity of several of them was amazing. There was also a desk calendar that I opened up and flipped through. Christmas morning was circled in black ink. Several other dates were starred with purple ink, and all of her assignments were penciled in with perfect handwriting.

Her journal was in the top drawer, and I fought all urges to read it in favor of good judgment. If I hoped to reconcile with her, reading her journal without permission was not the wisest first step to take.

On her bookshelf were several framed pictures. One was of her and her mother, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling. This picture must have been taken long before Cecile Leach had gotten sick. Another was a picture of Emily and Madison. Emily was pushing Madison on a tire swing in their back yard. A third picture was of Emily and her father, who was tall and red-haired and smiling. And then there was a picture of the three of us, the only wizard picture on her bookshelf. Josie was in the middle, smiling and laughing, her curly brown hair flying around her eyes. Emily was on the right, her pretty grey eyes flashing with laughter, and her red hair shining in the bright sunlight. And I was on the left, my nose curled up along with my smile. It was so wonderful and heart wrenching to be caught by surprise like that. I smiled out at myself from the picture, but it was impossible to smile back. I just grimaced and turned away.

I sat down on her bed, and was assailed immediately with the smell of smoke. Underneath one of her pillows was a pack of cigarettes and a Muggle lighter. I put them back carefully, making sure not to disrupt any of the wrinkles in her un-made sheets. And then I thought it strange that the house elves hadn't made her bed. Maybe they couldn't stand the smell of smoke coming from her sheets and bed curtains. She must have been smoking a lot those days, maybe even chain smoking.

I couldn't judge her. I was trying to be non-judgmental. How were we supposed to resolve our differences if we were judging one another? It was a problem we were both going to have to move past, especially her, though. A good friend accepts her friends' decisions, even if they aren't ones she particularly likes. At least this was my opinion on the subject, anyway.

I stood up and decided to straighten her bed a little bit. First, I applied a freshening charm, and immediately her sheets smelt breezy and cottony. I breathed in the clean scent, such juxtaposition to the stale smoke smell. Then I straightened her sheets and fluffed her pillows, and finally adjusted her blanket. Then I heard a tiny little meow down by my feet.

I looked down and saw quite possibly the most precious thing I had ever seen. A teeny, tiny kitten was rubbing itself against my left ankle, peering up at me with clear blue eyes. I bent down and picked him up. He was so tiny- the bulk of his size was due to his thick, fluffy fur. His fur was a beautiful medley of colors, auburn and tawny and dark grey. I had never seen such a collaboration of colors on a cat before. And he purred to beat the band. I had never known such a loud, ragged sound could escape such a tiny little thing. My heart just about melted into a puddle into my stomach.

"What are you doing in here?"

I spun around, clutching the kitten tight to my chest, and there was Emily, the dormitory door shut behind her, her clothes slightly disheveled and her hair frizzier and wilder looking than ever. She actually looked like she had just gone on a broomstick ride with Potter.

"Umm," I stammered, lost for words. All of the time I had spent nosing around her room and straightening her bed and playing with her kitten should have been spent planning my conversation with her.

"Well, Evans?" she asked. She was being neither friendly, nor hostile- just sort of neutral. Like she couldn't care less where I was standing, and I just happened to be standing in front of her.

I set the kitten down on the neatly made bed, and then looked back at her. "I thought maybe we should talk."

Emily narrowed her eyes a little bit, and set down her bags near her desk. "About what?"

"Well," I started, gulping a little bit and smoothing my skirt down with my hands. "That time of the year is going to be here soon, you know."

"Christmas."

I just nodded.

"Your point?"

"I just thought we should try to move past our differences, is all," I spat out. "We used to be so close, you know. Before it happened." I was willing to forgive her past behaviors, if only she could jump down from her self-appointed pedestal. I knew I had changed a lot in the past year, so had she? "And Emily, I'm going to need someone there when the time comes around again, someone important. I don't really have anyone like that in my life right now."

"You have Snape," she said, grinding her teeth on his name.

"Yeah, well. He doesn't really know what to say to me about all of this. It kind of goes unmentioned when we are together."

She just tut-tutted. "You're pathetic, you know that, right?"

I half-nodded. "And you're a bitch, you know that, right?"

She narrowed her eyes, and her cheeks and chest reddened, and I thought for a second she was going to close the distance between us and slap me across the face again. But she didn't. Instead, she just nodded. "I know. God, I know." And she broke down, right there, in front of me. She lowered her head and began sobbing, deeply and tragically. I didn't know what to do for a few minutes, to be honest. I just sort of stood there, staring at her like an idiot. I was really quite astonished and dumb-founded.

She looked back up at me, her face red and swollen: she was _not_ one of those girls who looked pretty when she cried. "How do I get it to stop? Lily, how do I stop? I can't stop!"

I felt kind of hopeless, but I walked towards her anyway, and led her towards the bed. She lay down, facing the window, and I lay down next to her, spooning her body. And her kitten ambled over and settled into the hollow of her stomach, nuzzling her with his tiny, tiny nose.

And I tried desperately to not think anything, even as her cataclysmic sobs shook the bed.

* * *

"His name is Gus."

It was several hours later, and we were sitting up in her bed, the curtains shut and our wand tips lit. Her kitten was playing with a couple pieces of ribbon between us.

"He's a pygmy cat. He won't get bigger than five pounds. He's probably five months old, now, and he will live twice as long as regular cats."

"He's the sweetest thing. Where did you get him?"

"In Diagon Alley, school shopping," she replied.

"I want one," I simpered. "Although I don't think it would be safe from Lotte."

"Probably not," Emily agreed. "I really love him though."

We fell silent, and I looked around at her bed, which was covered with food from the kitchens. About an hour ago I had gone down to the Common Room and told Black to go and get Emily and me food. He jumped at anything Emily needed (it was really quite ridiculous) and before I knew it, we had tons of food to eat. We had inadvertently missed dinnertime, and Emily had eaten ravenously.

"I haven't really been eating," she confessed to me. "I just haven't been hungry, really. But now I am."

I just chalked it up to depression, but of course I would never say that to her.

"Emily, what are you doing for Christmas?" I asked her.

"Probably just staying here," she replied, looking quite sad.

"Arabella sent me a letter last week asking me to spend Christmas Eve with her and Marlena."

"Are you going to go? Where are they now?"

"Yeah, I am going to go. They're in Ireland right now. Marlena is doing a lot of defense work for Ireland's Ministry. They will be there through Christmas holidays."

"Oh."

"Anyways, I think you should come with me. None of us should spend Christmas alone."

She remained silent, her grey eyes downtrodden.

"I'm just going to go home on Christmas morning," I continued.

"Okay," she said. "I guess I'll go." Suddenly she sat up a little bit, and cast a Tempus. Diluted light flashed a jewel-tone, purple 9:30 p.m. in front of our eyes. "I wonder where Hazel and Mary are. They're usually back before dinner to wash up."

"Oh, oops," I said. "I cast a deterrent on the door hours ago. They've probably been wandering around wondering why they don't want to come back to their rooms!"

Emily looked slightly amused, and then her mouth slowly widened into a smile, and then she giggled a bit, and her giggle slowly turned into hysterics. And my laughter joined hers, and we fell back on the bed, both of us laughing harder than we had laughed in months. We laughed so hard our throats became raw, and our ribs ached.

And that was how I got back on good terms with Emily. It had been a lot easier than I had anticipated, but it was something that I had needed to do. And underneath it all, it was something that I had wanted to do. So I swallowed my pride.

A/N: I would like to thank my beta editor MRSSPICY. Comments welcome.

**Chapter 32:** Delusions of the Most Fantastic Sort


	32. Delusions of the Most Fantastic Sort

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Two: **Delusions of the Most Fantastic Sort

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_You made yourself a bed_

_At the bottom of the blackest hole_

_And convinced yourself that_

_It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore." Paramore_

_Beginning of December 1976_

_Just Over a Month Left_

Severus was in heaven.

Quite literally.

His world was brighter, fluffier, lighter, more airy and sparkly. And he didn't care what others thought about the new spring in his step. He had Lily Evans all to himself for the first time in his life. He finally had her, after years of longing.

The time he spent with her in the Room was limitless, timeless, infinite. It was neither too short nor too long. Severus felt as if he entered into a complete other dimension when he crossed over the threshold with her in tow, a dimension that consisted of only the Room and them in it. Outside the Room was a black void that was neither existent nor non-existent. And the Room's air molecules were so clogged with emotion and passion and lust he was sure they could burst at any second. And when they did burst, a kaleidoscope of sunspots blinded his vision and burned red-white-green spots morphing and fading and expanding in the black air that existed between his eyeballs and eyelids.

But his eyes couldn't stay shut for long, no. He had to devour the image that lay before him.

Cherry-colored, lust-colored, crazy, wild but tamed, flyaway curls. Or perhaps a dress of ocher and vermillion, shining and glistening and flowing and pooling and covering her most silken parts. Parted in the middle to reveal heavy whipping cream skin, spiced with cinnamon and cardamom in her most intimate nooks. The crock of her elbow, the curve of her groin, the thin thin thin plane behind her knee. Here color rested and waited, tasting sweeter and more sumptuous each time he lapped at it. And the texture was dense and fluffy simultaneously. Unlike any cake he had ever consumed.

But she was cake. And, by Merlin, had he been starving.

"_Qu'ils mangent de la brioche." _

Never before had he quite understood the gravity of this utterance. That was before. Now, he probably understood it better than even the French.

Perhaps one doesn't know just how much one is deprived of light until one is blinded by it.

So Severus had this now. And he was one step away from possessing all he had ever dreamed of possessing.

Would he pursue his wildest dreams? Absolutely. There was nothing holding him back now. He had her love, her unconditional love. This fueled his desires even more. And one day, she would realize his true intentions. He would make her see, would make her understand what it meant to him.

But until that day, she could never know what he would become. And this way, he could continue to have and eat his auburn-colored, cream-filled, cherry-flavored cake.

* * *

Only the Gods possess flawless foresight. And Severus wasn't, by any means, a God.

* * *

**A/N**: Comments very welcome. Thanks to my beta editor MRSSPICY. Please check out her stories!

Thanks also to my readers and reviewers.

Oh, also: _"Qu'ils mangent de la brioche." _– French, "Let them eat cake."

** If you don't know what this refers to, shame on you. And look it up!

**Ch 33: **Interlude, Vernette Ziegler


	33. Interlude, Vernette Ziegler

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter: **Interlude, Vernette Ziegler

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_Rockaway rockaway_

_From Cullercoats and Whitley Bay_

_Out to rockaway"_

_Dire Straits, Tunnel of Love_

* * *

Vernette Ziegler

Second Row

Greenhouse Five

Hogwarts Grounds

Hogsmeade

Ross and Cromarty

Highlands

Scotland

United Kingdom

Europe

Eastern Hemisphere

Earth

Solar System

Milky Way Galaxy

Universe

Netta liked to do this exercise. It helped her remember herself. She really felt herself somewhere, existing and breathing and living, when she wrote all of these things down, systematically. Stephen Dedalus does it, so why shouldn't she?

Linear sketches like this were doodled all over her notes. Sometimes she got very, very carried away. The front flyleaf of her journal was inscribed with this fairly simple one.

Vernette Ella Ziegler

Attic Bedroom

Brook St

Monkseaton

Whitley Bay

North Tyneside

Tyne and Wear

Northeast England

United Kingdom

She stared at this entry at times, remembering her springy bed underneath her willowy, bony frame, smelling the dusty, mothbally air in the attic, adjusting her eyes to the oppressive, filtered light let in by the slatted windows.

She made other lists as well. Lists that helped her to realize and to know what kind of person she was.

Netta Ziegler

Hufflepuff

Seventh Year

Loyal

Two-faced

Liar

This one cropped up repetitively, on pieces of parchment she shredded nervously, and then incinerated.

Was she a liar? She asked herself this question a lot.

Obviously, she was. A liar by omission, at least. But she wondered still if she truly was.

Was she two-faced? How could one be both loyal and two-faced?

It's really hard to say. Netta Ziegler was the most complicated Hufflepuff to ever exist in Hogwart's gritty history, past and present.

"_You have a wretched past, my dear," the hat whispered in her ear. _

_Her feet dangled down, attached to twiggy legs wrapped in stockings. She often felt this way, disembodied: random limbs did her bidding, her heavy head floated around on a neck too long and thin, not strong enough to support her thoughts. _

"_I'm trying to forget all that," she thought hard, loud enough for the hat to hear._

"_You have a sweet disposition, certainly. Tons of loyalty… smarts…"_

"_I just want nice friends," her small voice thought. _

"_Of course, love," the hat responded. "Don't we all?"_

_She bit her lip. Sweat was starting to trickle down from her scalp into her eyebrows and into her ears. _

"_You have some Hufflepuff traits here, definitely," the hat thought. "You also have some Slytherin in you. Of course we all do, to some extent."_

"_Where will I find friends who will love me?"_

"_Hufflepuff, of course, but—"_

"_Then I want Hufflepuff."_

"_I think we need to discuss this more."_

"_NO! HUFFLEPUFF!" She screamed in her head at the Hat._

"_HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat had bellowed out to the hall. That was the first time it had ever had a student quite literally yell thoughts at it._

Now, the teenage Netta had learned a lot from being in Hufflepuff. She had never really belonged, and the students in her house had tried to accept her. But she had been too weird, too strange, too out of sorts for even pliable Hufflepuffs to really accept. She had learned lessons from this, lessons she would take to the grave.

Despite her determinations to put her dark childhood past behind her, it never left her, not wholly. She was trying to find her own way in the world, but this was very difficult, especially when thoughts lurked back in the musty, cobwebby corners of her cranium.

She was an 'other.'

*

Her first memories were disjointed, toddler memories, muddy and cloudy and full of images, smells, jumbled voices, sharp edges, ratty blankets. She lived in an orphanage until the age of three, when she was adopted by the Zieglers.

She slept in a long corridor full of other cribs. The nights were long and stuffy and full of noise. Some nights she shivered; other nights she sweat and thrashed in her sleep.

Very rarely did she get picked up just to be coddled. The other children were rough and dirty and wore clothes with holes in them. She got yelled at and pushed around, especially when the 'things' happened, things no one could explain.

She was called Mosley, this presumably being the surname attached to her blankets when she was found.

She was adopted into a standard family. The parents were smiley at the orphanage, and held her, and she liked them. They brought their natural children several times, a boy and a girl dressed in fancy clothes. And finally they took her to their home.

*

She roomed for several years in the hallway outside the other rooms, in a rickety crib that made a loud racket if she moved around too much. When she graduated to a bed, they moved her upstairs into the attic bedroom.

She liked it. It wasn't spooky like Jessica, her sister, always said. She preferred the cobwebs and the dark corners and the cozy nooks afforded by furniture shrouded in dingy curtains. There were two windows on either side of the attic, little round windows with slats. Very little natural light came into the attic, and she unearthed several old lamps and set them up at various and strategic points in the room.

She never really bonded with Jessica, or Ethan, her brother. They kept their distance from her, and her parents weren't as smiley as they made themselves out to be at the orphanage. She had many chores to do around the house, so many that most days she couldn't finish before it was time to go to bed. She was treated generally, it is sad to say, as the "red-headed stepchild."

*

She made very few friends in primary school. She met one girl in infant school, named Marie, and they remained fast friends until Vernette went away to Hogwarts. After this, they grew apart, and each summer spent together was more and more awkward and forced.

Marie and Vernette were outcasts during their primary school years. They understood the idea of the 'other' before many of their fellow students, and Netta took this knowledge with her everywhere she went.

* * *

Other students all knew she was strange, even students from different houses. She had a different way about her, and others picked up on this immediately. And when an anonymous Slytherin approached her with information regarding a certain unmentionable club, she had been very interested. After one meeting, she had been hooked.

She had Lily Evans fooled. And several others, as well.

But honestly, who _didn't_ have Lily Evans fooled? She didn't know her right from her left when it came to the people around her.

Her birthday came around in May of every year, and this year would be her 17th. And she planned to give up her body to subservience that day.

**A/N**: Comments welcome.

This may seem out of place, but Netta Ziegler is kind of important to my developing plot, and I feel at times she gets shoved to the side and forgotten. I want her making an impression on everyone.

Thank you to my regular readers, and of course, any new readers stumbling upon my fic.

Thank you also to my beta reader, MRSSPICY. Please check out her stories!

**Ch 34**: A War at Our Doorstep


	34. A War at our Doorstep

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Four: **A War at Our Doorstep

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_December 7, 1976_

_Dawn_

Hogsmeade steamed and smoldered. A few odd houses still crackled with dying fire. Scorched buildings stood as gravestones for the dozens of bodies scattered around them. An alley cat poked nosily through a pub's spilt garbage.

A clear, winter dawn was lightening the sky, illuminating more and more of the carnage that Hogsmeade suffered the night before. The growing pastel colors contrasted sharply with the emerald green Dark Mark hanging above Hogsmeade as if attached to marionette strings. The mouth opened and closed like a ventriloquist's dummy, the snake-like tongue wagging and twisting in macabre amusement.

The bodies of the dead were difficult to look at. Many were curled and distorted in awful ways, perfect pictures of tortured death. Some were burnt, and the stench of scorched flesh stung the nose. Dismembered limbs, hands and feet lay strewn around like a deck of flung cards. Aurors and Death Eaters alike now shared the same ground, laying together no longer as enemies, but as victims of the same fate. Worse still was the sight of civilians.

Dead women and children littered the lawns in front of houses. Dead men were seen sprawled across the front stoops, defending their families to the death. And contrasted sharply against all of this carnage were the piles of snow, resembling cold mashed potatoes. The dead bodies on white snow hurt the eyes the way an eclipse might.

Slowly, surviving civilians made their way out of their cellars and shelters. Women shielded their children from witnessing the scene, and several men began walking around, searching avidly for survivors and identifying the dead. It was an awful, bleak, gray, bloody scene with no hope. Residual dark magic tingled and hung in the air, and caused women's hair to frizz up, and singed the delicate skin on children's arms.

A heavy snow began to fall, quickly blanketing the bodies and blurring the edges between the hibernating landscape and the apocalyptic scene.

And above all, carried on the light wind, one could hear the slight, subtle, maniacal laughter of the Dark Lord.

**A/N:** Sorry for the short chapter. The next chapter is much longer than the last ones have been, and I should have it posted within a day or two. Comments welcome and appreciated. Review please!! Thank you to my beta, MRSSPICY.

**Ch 35:** Confrontation in Fishguard


	35. Confrontations in Fishguard

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Five: **Confrontation in Fishguard

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Post-Hogsmeade Attack_

_December 1976_

Everyone knew the attack on Hogsmeade was happening. We could see it from our windows. Most of us just stood there and watched it in horror, unable to turn away. What else could we have done? We were forbidden on penalty of immediate expulsion from leaving our dormitories and besides, our Heads of Houses all spent the night with us in our common room that night. And of course, only the densest of the dense would have gone out of the castle. I was afraid to even go into the girl's loo in Gryffindor's common room alone, but of course this was ridiculous.

It was the most awful thing I have ever witnessed. The white, snow-swollen sky glared orange from the fires. If no one spoke in the common room, you could hear the screams, and the awful booming noise of concentrated magic. I vomited several times in the toilet, and several girls vomited right out in the common room, unable to control their fear and utter horror at what was happening.

None of us really spoke to one another that night; we all just sat around, staring at one another, trying to sleep, but of course unable to. I wondered if I would ever be able to sleep soundly again after that night, and I was quite convinced I wouldn't be.

Hazel played her cello for us, and this might have been the one distraction that kept me sane. She played the same six or seven songs over and over again. Cello music rarely ever sounds happy, especially on its own, and we participated in a collective vigil that night.

The attack on Hogsmeade revealed several factors to the wizarding population. Lord Voldemort's army boasted much larger numbers than was previously thought. 40 Death Eaters alone were found dead in Hogsmeade. The Ministry quickly released projected numbers: it was now estimated that Lord Voldemort's ranks numbered well over 250. And this did not count the myriad dark creatures he had at his disposal. It was also rumored he commanded an army of the dead.

"Inferi," Tori informed me one day. We were sitting in the library, in our regular study spot. "That's what they're called."

"Oh," I said. I glanced over at Emily, who had reluctantly agreed to start studying with the Slytherin girls and me. The only part of her face to betray emotion was her mouth, which twitched upwards, and looked a bit pinched.

After the attack on Hogsmeade, it seemed awful to think about Christmas, but the holiday was coming quickly, and I felt it was best to look forward to the future. I had several things to get into order before the holidays started, including gifts and my travel plans.

I didn't have very much money to spare, so I had to budget accordingly. I was planning to buy gifts for my parents, and Petunia and her new husband a gift, although I doubted I would receive something from them in return. I also had to buy something for Professor Figg and Arabella. This left Emily and Severus, and of course the Prefect Gift Exchange. This year I had gotten almost the last person I would ever wish to get.

James Potter.

How did I know what I was to get him? He was even more difficult to shop for than Petunia's husband, and this was saying something. In the end, I settled on a cleaning kit for his wand. I had heard Severus gripe on several occasions about Potter's disrespect for his wand. When the Prefect gift exchange took place, the night before holidays began, Potter thanked me amiably. I highly doubted he would use the gift.

Emily and I were leaving together directly from Kings Cross for Ireland. I was looking forward to the trip very much. I was waiting until we got to Ireland to do the rest of my Christmas shopping, as I thought genuine Irish gifts would be a nice change of pace. Apart from the Ice Mice and fudge Professor Figg and Arabella had requested from Honeydukes, this was my plan.

Severus was slightly dismayed that he would not get to see very much of me over Christmas holidays, but I promised him a lot of attention after Christmas. I was even considering taking him on a mini-break to Scotland, or something of the like. I was sure he would like that.

_Friday, December 17, 1976_

_Afternoon_

_Kings Cross_

I walked beside Emily, both of us pulling small suitcases behind us. We had ordered wizardspace* suitcases from Hogsmeade a couple weeks before our trip, opting for the smaller, more agile bodies the suitcases boasted rather than the bulky trunks we were used to hauling around.

It was also bitingly cold. I had a scarf, hat, gloves, and cloak wrapped around my body, and still felt the icy, harsh wind. I couldn't wait for the cider available on the train's trolley service.

"Which line do we have to get on?" I asked Emily, as if she a better chance of knowing than me.

We consulted a map.

"We need to get to Paddington," Emily said. "The only trains to Fishguard leave from there."

My eyes scanned over the map. "It looks like we need Metropolitan line, west platform," I said.

"Yeah, only a few stops. Let me have a quick fag first, though."

A few minutes later, after putting her cigarette out with the sole of her shoe, she said, "Let's go."

We found our platform and stood for only a few moments before our train blew into the station. We boarded with the few other passengers waiting around, and found seats easily. I was already beginning to get hot from all the rushing to and fro.

"What time does our train leave from Paddington again?" I asked Emily as we sat there. She was holding the tickets for us both, and she consulted them quickly.

"It leaves at 8:12 p.m.," she said.

"It's quarter till now. We still have a little time," I replied. "Hopefully there aren't any delays."

Which there weren't. Soon, we were pushing out of the doors of our car onto the dirty platform floor of Paddington station.

"Platform 3, right?" Emily said. "Our train leaves in ten minutes."

We hastened our step and were soon searching for our coach.

"Coach D, right?" Emily asked, consulting her ticket. "Yes, seats 36 and 38."

We hoisted our suitcases up into the racks over our seats, and then slowly settled in. Taking our cloaks off proved to be a difficult task, as we constantly had to move back and forth between the tiny aisle afforded between our seats, and the main aisle.

"You brought a Muggle coat, right?" Emily asked me under her breath. Many of the other passengers were staring blatantly at our cloaks.

"Yeah," I replied reluctantly. "But cloaks are so much warmer."

"I know," she replied. "Hopefully we'll be spending most of our time in wizarding Dublin," she added in a lowered voice.

By the time I sat down in a huff, my brow was sweating and little baby tendrils of hair were sticking to my temples. The train lurched into motion. The Stena Line conductor announced our final destination as Fishguard. We would kip there for the night, and then board a ferryboat in the morning to cross St. George's Channel. This ferry was destined for Rosslare Harbor. From there we would board another train directly into Dublin.

Emily fell asleep after polishing off the hot chocolate she ordered from the trolley. I fished through my bottomless handbag and unearthed a book I was reading –title—It was a small, succinct introduction to the more extensive study I was beginning on the French conquest of the English in 1066, and the consequences of this for the rest of history. I was particularly interested in the ways this effected the development of the English language.

I read most of the way to Fishguard, stopping every now and then to drink my piping hot cider (I had surreptitiously spelled it to stay hot), or to copy down a particularly stimulating or intriguing quote or idea into my moleskine. My ideas regarding history and politics were becoming more and more advanced as time wore on, and this growth was beginning to manifest itself in my essays. I was very close to considering them worthy of submission. I had several small, little-known periodicals I was considering. _The Daily Prophet_ was, of course, out of the question, for the same reasons it had always been.

When we pulled into Fishguard Station, I nudged Emily awake. She smacked her lips a few times to wake herself up, and stretched a bit. We disembarked after some delay—our luggage had shifted during travel and had become lodged in between a few other traveler's suitcases.

"Brr," Emily said, wrapping her arms around herself. We stopped for a moment on the platform so I could arrange my scarf around my head. "Let's hurry up and get to our room."

"We can afford a cab, right?" I asked Emily. "It seems a bit late to walk by ourselves."

"Not to mention the fact that it's absolutely freezing! Of course we should get a cab!"

We walked quickly out of Fishguard Harbor and approached a cab waiting by the curb. He nodded to us, and we climbed quickly into the warm back seat.

"The Inn on the Parrog," I told him, and he nodded again before taking off down the road.

The ride was very short, and we paid him quickly before dashing into the Inn.

We were due to take the earliest ferry possible from the nearby harbor, so we both immediately crashed when we got to our room. We were exhausted from all of the travel we had done that day, anyway.

_Saturday, December 18, 1976_

_5 a.m. _

"Lily, wake up!" Emily roughly shook me awake.

"What's the matter?" I mumbled groggily.

"Something's wrong," she whispered. "Be quiet." She tiptoed over to the one window our hostel's room had, and peaked out. I could barely make out her figure in the dark room.

She stood at the window for a few minutes, and then turned back to me. I couldn't read her features, but I could sense tenseness about her. She reached under her pillow for her wand after slinging her Muggle coat on.

"You can Apparate, right?" she asked me, still speaking very softly.

"Yeah, of course. I passed my exam last spring," I replied. I hurried over to my suitcase and quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a very warm sweater. I buttoned my coat over all of this, and stuffed a scarf around my neck and a hat on my head. I slid my shoes on, and turned to her for direction.

"Something weird is going on, and I don't like it." She shrank her luggage and slid it in her pocket. I quickly followed suit, starting to feel a little bit nervous. I had never seen Emily in her "Auror" mode before. Still, she was very calm and coolly collected. I slid my wand into the lining between my jeans and panties and we walked quietly out into the hall and down the creaky stairs.

The front desk was manned by one lone, snoozing, potbellied older fellow, and not wanting to disturb him, we quickly calculated how much we owed for the night and left it by one of his hands, along with our room key. Then we crept out the door silently, and into the dark, cold night.

Emily cast an odd spell I had never heard before.

"It illuminates all potentially harmful threats to me within a certain radius," she explained under her breath. "Nothing right now, but I think we should Disillusion, just in case."

She cast the spell on me, and I on her, and then we began walking in the direction of the harbor, keeping well hidden towards the side of the road just in case our spells were faulty.

"I thought you said that maybe we should Apparate?"

"Only if necessary. My alarms might have been triggered by something obsolete."

And then she explained to me what she was on about. Last year, Professor Figg had taught her a spell used to protect a person during sleep. It was a very, very advanced defense spell, and Emily hadn't even been able to do it properly until just a few weeks ago, although she had been practicing it for over a year now. It created a sort of circular force field around a person that when triggered dinged loudly in the spell casters head. A malevolent force, or a person who wished to inflict harm on anyone in the vicinity, triggered the alarm to go off.

"Wow, what a useful spell," I said. "I didn't even know something like that existed, why don't more people use it?"

"A lot of people can't even incant it," Emily explained as we walked, all humility pushed aside for the time being. "It's very advanced magic, and I went to Professor Figg because I had discovered it during some research reading. I wanted to be at an advantage in any way possible when it comes to protecting my family from attack."

"How wide a radius do you usually set for a spell like this?"

"Several miles, so really anything could have triggered it. But I have a feeling whatever it is is big, or large in number. And I don't like that feeling."

We walked for a while, and soon were a little ways out of the main town area. The harbor/train station was set further north than the town, but we stayed on the main road, still hidden in brush and tree. Suddenly, she pushed me back violently behind a particularly wide trunk. We squatted down for several minutes, she breathing very shallowly, and I very heavily. I was sweating and feeling very queasy all of a sudden. Then, she hissed in a breath.

I poked my head over the tiniest bit, and saw what made her hiss. Moving in our direction on the road was the most awful sight I had ever seen.

A dozen or so tall figures were striding purposely in the direction of the little Muggle town. They were awful to look at. Long, long black robes grazed the ground, and dragged dead leaves behind. Their faces were masked, and their arms were folded in an X in front of their chests. In his right hand each held a wand.

Emily waited until they were well out of hearing distance before turning to me. Her eyes were huge and bloodshot and full of fear, and sweat was beading on her upper lip and nose.

"How strong is your Stupefy?" she asked me urgently.

"Pretty strong," I replied, gathering an idea of what she was thinking. I was highly doubtful that it was possible, though.

"Maybe if we did Stupefy Maximus, holding the same wand," she continued, talking in a rush. "We have to do something. They are going to destroy that whole town."

This was so true, but I was so terrified. My hands were starting to shake.

"Okay," I nodded. I swallowed the taste of bile that was coating my mouth, and stood up straight. "We should probably opt for as much surprise as possible," I said. "Do you know how close they are to the village?"

She muttered a little spell underneath her breath, and shut her eyes for a few seconds. "Remember that red barn we passed on the way here? They're a little bit past there, so they haven't gained too much ground. We're going to have to run. We can't approach them using magic, they would immediately detect it. Now, the closer we get the better. I think we should try to be within 30 feet of them when casting the spell. We're going to use my wand, it's preferred for Defense."

"Okay," I said, nodding through her suggestions. I cast a very strong silencing charm on us both, and then we were off running.

I couldn't believe what we were about to do: attack a dozen or more fully-grown, fully horrifying Death Eaters decked out in full Death Eating regalia. The two of us, Emily and I. Two girls not even graduated from Hogwarts yet! But I couldn't think about the possible outcome of something like this. I just had to rush at it like a true Gryffindor. That's what I kept thinking to myself.

It was still blacker than night out, and the only light we had to go by was that of the stars, and the smallest sliver of a waning moon. We ran as fast as we could, and before I was even halfway prepared to do what we were about to do, we were upon them.

They marched steadily away from us, unaware of our presence. They seemed to have sunk into a sense of comfort, it being a wholly muggle town they were attacking.

I whispered "Finite Incantatem," to shut off my silencing charms. Emily already had her wand held out in front of her ready, and so I covered her hand with mine, whispered almost silently to three, and then the spell exploded out of the both of us.

"Stupefy Maximus Totus," we bellowed. A horrible jet of hot red light rocketed towards the group of Death Eaters, but to our dismay, it was only about two-thirds of the way effective. All the Death Eaters towards the back collapsed, but without missing a beat, the ones in the front whipped around running.

Emily yelled a long incantation in Latin. I have no idea what this spell did, but I didn't care. I was suddenly hurling myself at the four or five men stampeding towards us, all fear forgotten. Emily was incanting behind me, conjuring up a fantastic neon-blue orb that tried so hard to materialize, but continually flickered and sputtered out of life.

Suddenly, I vomited out a barrage of defense spells without even having to think of what to do. Two of the men stumbled over their own feet in response to my attacks before I was hit with something.

All of a sudden, my arms were rendered too heavy for my body, and they burned with a hot, searing pain. They hung around my sides like an ape's might, and my hand could no longer grasp my wand properly, so it fell to the ground and rolled a little ways away over the bumpy ground.

"Finite Incantatem," I heard Emily shout from behind me, but it did no good. The spell stuck fast, and my arms swung uselessly like pendulums. All the while, the three remaining Death Eaters were getting closer and closer to us. One of them raised his wand, mouthed a spell I couldn't hear, and suddenly awful pain was forcing itself into my cranium, clogging the tight space between my brain and skull. I screamed out, louder than I had ever heard myself scream, but I couldn't lift my hands to my head to comfort myself. I tripped over my own arms, fell to the ground, and continued screaming and writhing in absolute agony before losing total consciousness.

* * *

I was floating on a ball of cotton. No, I was floating _in_ a ball of cotton. All around me, the fibers lay softly and warmly on the skin of my arms and legs, twinned in the spaces between my fingers, and tangled in the strands of my hair. It was indiscernible where I ended and the cotton began. And I began to feel I _was_ the cotton, all clean smelling and cool feeling and light weighing. And I almost began to feel lighter than the cotton.

The cotton was in my brain, curling around in circles, and filling in cracks. And I floated there forever, pleasantly, complacently, having no past, no present, no future. I was being the cotton, becoming the cotton, I was always the cotton, I would always be the cotton.

I was cotton, and cotton was I. Infinitely, we existed as one.

* * *

Pages were being turned, somewhere near my right ear. Lightweight pages, like those in a magazine. They kept turning and turning, as if they turned themselves. Their sole purpose was to be turned, and my sole purpose was to acknowledge their turning.

I slowly registered their turning, and all around me began humming. At first it wasn't even happening. Well, it was happening, but I didn't realize it. A bee was in my cotton. And then the humming grew more fervent, more insistent. It wasn't so gentle anymore. The bee was in my ear. And then the turning stopped. But the humming grew, extending tremors out into my cotton.

"Oh my gosh."

These were sounds, not words. I didn't know what they meant. I didn't know what was making them. They were just sounds.

"Oh my gosh. Lily darling, please wake up."

Everything sounded cloudy, if something can sound cloudy. Murky and cloudy. That's what those sounds were like to me.

The humming was now not humming anymore. In fact, it had turned into quite violent vibrations. Everything around me vibrated roughly, and my cottony-body vibrated along with it. My world was vibrating; my body extended roughly into the vibrations and I was beginning to grow numb.

And suddenly it stopped.

"Is she awake?" I heard this too, but it was only sounds. No meaning.

"She's conscious. Miss Evans?"

My cotton was warm.

"Miss Evans?"

It was warm, like it had always been, and like it always would be. But something strange was happening.

"Lily Evans, can you hear me?"

I smelt snippets of cold in between the warmth. It was like oil and water- it didn't mix at all. And I hated the cold. My cotton was to be always warm, never cold. And the cold smelled awful.

"Lily Belle Evans!"

Each time I heard those sounds, whatever they were, my cotton grew colder. Like those sounds were ripping tears through my cotton cocoon. And I began to _hate_ them.

"Give her a little time."

More cold. More hatred felt on my part.

I heard muffled sobs. But of course, they meant nothing to me. Just more sounds, infiltrating my cottony abode.

I grew red hot with anger, and this clashed with the icy cold weaving itself through the fluffs of cotton. A huge thunderclap burst out of my chest, and suddenly I was awash with cold, cold all over my naked body. And bright, bright color stung my virgin, naked eyes.

Unfamiliar shapes and colors swam around my face and fought for preference in my brain, but I could understand and process none of it.

"Finite Incantatem."

And suddenly my brain worked.

To the right of me stood my mother, complete with red hair and warm brown eyes, currently pouring buckets of tears over her cheeks. On the other side of me stood a tall Healer, clean shaven, with dark brown hair and chiseled features.

And I was most decidedly completely starkers, sitting on a hospital bed, staring up at him in awe.

I shrieked, and grasped at anything to cover myself up. My face was burning as red hot as my anger had been a few seconds before.

My mother threw herself on me as soon as I was covered in a sheet, and sobbed loudly and embarrassingly into my shoulder.

"Mum!" I said, looking up at the Healer for help. "What on earth is going on, where the bloody hell am I?"

"You're in St. Mungo's, Miss Evans," the Healer began. "You were hit by very badly executed Dark Magic—"

"What are you on about?" I demanded sharply, trying to extricate myself out from underneath my mother.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Miss," he said apologetically, blushing a little bit.

"Why am I here? Fall term hasn't even ended yet! I should be at Hogwarts," I said nervously, trying more vigorously now to wriggle out of my mother's grasp. "I haven't even taken end of term exams yet!"

My mother pulled herself away from me finally, smoothing her hair back away from her face and exchanging nervous looks with the Healer.

"Why am I here? Did I get real sick?"

"Lily, the doctor is trying to tell you," she said.

"Miss Evans, over Christmas holidays—"

"What do you _mean_, over Christmas holidays? They haven't even started yet!"

"Lily, let the man speak already!" my mother said loudly, her voice getting a little strained.

"What's today? I guarantee holidays haven't even started yet—"

"It's three January 1977," the Healer said evenly.

"See, I told you holi— WHAT? What in Merlin's name are you on about?!"

"Lily, please don't swear," my mother said, shaking her head a little bit and turning away from me to stare out the window.

"You mean Christmas's come and gone already?" I demanded. "What have I been doing here? I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with Emily, and Arabella and Professor Figg! It was the anniversary of Josie's death!" And all of a sudden I started to cry. I drew in horrible, chest-racking breaths of air because it was hard to breath, and huge, hot tears somehow managed to squeeze themselves out of my tear ducts.

The Healer laid a hand on my bare shoulder, and then quickly withdrew it, blushing some more.

"What's going on?" I suddenly heard from behind the Healer, where I presumed a door was. "Is Lily awake?!"

And Emily emerged from behind the Healer, walking quickly, carrying a book in her left hand and her wand in her right.

"Lily!" And she hurled herself at me, never mind that I was _still _completely starkers underneath the sheets. "Lily, I thought you were _never_ going to wake up. I was so scared!"

"What are you people talking about?" I said loudly, and quite angrily this time. I failed to notice that _I_ was the one interrupting the Healer every time he tried to explain what had happened to me.

"Lily Belle Evans!" my mother said, suddenly very angry. "Let the Healer talk to you, and **don't **interrupt!"

I looked back towards the Healer, waiting for him to explain.

He took a deep breath. "Miss Evans, over the Christmas holidays you were hit with very badly executed Dark Magic. The intended effects of the spell used on you are implosion of the brain due to severe cranial pressure. Luckily for you, the Death Eater—"

"What do you mean, _Death Eater_?!"

"LILY!" my mother and Emily both yelled at the same time.

I clamped my mouth shut quickly.

"Luckily for you, the Death Eater performing the spell was a novice at best. Even more luckier for you is the fact that you do not suffer severe and unalterable amnesia. It appears you only have a very mild form of amnesia."

"Lily, do you remember the attack on Hogsmeade?" Emily asked urgently.

"Yes, of course. It was awful," I said remorsefully.

"Do you remember the school vigil we held for the victims the next day? In the Great Hall?"

"No…" I replied slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore excused the whole school from mid-term exams then, too. He said we had already endured more than enough stress for one term, and he wanted us to go home and prepare to start the spring term fresh."

"I don't remember any of this," I replied desperately.

"These memories may or may not come back over time, Miss Evans. You should be very grateful that you do not suffer more severe memory-loss, or the loss of your life, for that matter."

Emily and my mother both nodded vigorously.

"But when did all this happen?" I asked.

"16 days ago," the Healer replied quickly.

"Well, what on earth have I been doing in this hospital, then?"

"Lily, are you being purposefully thick?" Emily demanded of me.

"She's really quite disoriented," the Healer explained, and I felt a rush of gratitude towards him. "Miss Evans, you have been recovering."

"Thanks to Healer Leatherby, you are going to make an almost full recovery," my mother said.

"It is true that the effects of this spell are little known and very hard to treat, but it can't go without saying that I had a lot of help from the other Healers in the wing," Healer Leatherby replied sheepishly and humbly. "You were woven into some kind of cocoon-like magic that protected you, soothed you, and enabled your magic to heal itself. This is, of course, something that all of the Healers on your case developed together."

"Oh, poppycock," my mother said dismissively. "You've been working your hide off the last two and a half weeks and I owe you my life for it. Healer Leatherby was the main Healer on your case, Lily. While you need to thank all the Healers for their work, this was mainly his accomplishment."

I turned to Emily then. "Em, explain to me what happened! Please?!"

"Lily we were kipping in Fishguard for the night, on our way to Dublin," she started. She explained the rest of the story, all the way up to, "but then you got knocked unconscious, I guess it was because of the pain."

"Yes, severe enough pain will render the self unconscious. It's the body's way of protecting itself," Healer Leatherby said.

"There were only three Death Eaters left at this point, and they weren't very skilled, any of them. I easily disarmed all three of them, and then stunned them. After this, I immediately Apparated you to St. Mungo's. Of course, Aurors are notified immediately of any severe trauma cases coming into the hospital, so they knew within minutes of our arrival what had happened in Fishguard."

"Are the Death Eaters in Azkaban?" I asked eagerly.

"All 14 of them," Emily replied, nodding. "They were very low-level Death Eaters at any rate though, which was why it was so easy for us to overcome them. I'm actually quite surprised we were even able to do_ that_. It was all in the element of surprise. If we hadn't been able to creep up on them the way we did, Fishguard would be in smithereens at this point."

"I can't believe it," I replied. "Does the _Prophet_ know about this?"

"Of course!" Emily replied, a tad condescendingly. "But they don't know it was you and I. Dumbledore made absolute sure the public didn't know two young girls not even out of Hogwarts were responsible for the capture of 14 Death Eaters, although he was mighty proud, let me tell you. He should actually be by later. He wants me to notify him as soon as you wake up."

"Yes of course. But who all knows?"

"The Aurors I reported the ambush too, and they have been sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore himself. The few Healers here who have been working together on your recovery, but they are avowed to confidentiality. And our families.

"Oh. Why on earth was I sleeping so long?"

"Healer Leatherby cast that spell on you, Lily," my mother explained. "It was to aid and facilitate your healing. And it worked wonders, didn't it? I was highly dubious in the beginning, but I'm so glad I took the chance now." My mother hugged me again, very tightly, and wiped a few more tears off her cheeks.

"Where's Daddy?" I asked her, suddenly aware of his lack of presence.

"He's been here almost as much as me, love," my mother said, smoothing some of my hair back from my forehead. "He actually just left a couple hours ago to do some work in the office. I suspect he'll be back before nightfall."

"And Petunia, has she been by?"

"She has come by. A few times, actually. Vernon has refused to come though, won't even set foot in this place on account of principle."

Which was little more than I expected of him. I was quite surprised Petunia had come by, though, and a little bit touched.

"Does Severus know where I am?" I demanded.

"No, Lily," Emily said. "No one does, apart from the few of us."

"Where does he think I am? He must be gads worried!"

"I forged a letter to him in your handwriting, and convinced Lotte to send it," Emily replied, blushing a bit. "He just thinks we're staying much longer in Dublin, and that we'll be coming back when term starts again. Healer Leatherby and Dumbledore were both so convinced that you would eventually wake up, so I didn't see any harm in a little white lie. Besides, Dumbledore really, honestly doesn't want _anyone_ to know. He thinks we would be in terrible danger."

"And he's absolutely right. No, Lily, you aren't to tell anyone at all what has happened to you, do you understand?" my mother demanded.

"Yes, of course, Mum."

"Lily, I'm so glad you finally woke up, I feel like it's been ages," Emily said.

"That's 'cause it has been ages," I replied desperately.

"Well, in any case, I'm going to go and notify Dumbledore you're awake," she said. "Don't go unconscious again while I'm gone," she joked, and stood up to leave the room.

"Lily, love," my mother said. "I have to go home. I've been living in this hospital wing for the last 2 weeks straight. I'll be back later tonight. You understand, right?"

"Of course, Mum," I answered, smiling at her.

She bent over me and gave me a kiss, then leaned back again. She cupped my cheek in her palm and said, " Don't ever do that to me again, you understand? I very near had a heart attack."

"Of course," I repeated. "I'll try my hardest."

"Healer Leatherby, a quick word, if you will?" And they both excused themselves from my bedside.

As soon as the door snapped shut, I sprang out of bed. Doing so caused a lot of pain to rush to my head, and I felt extremely wobbly from being bed-ridden for the past two weeks. I fell to the cold tile floor, and just lay there for a few moments, trying my hardest to remember for myself all that Emily had just recalled to me, but it was impossible.

It was also impossible to believe that she and I had apprehended fourteen Death Eaters, never mind the fact that they were lower rank. Such a feat should have been impossible for two girls our age. Of course, Emily was training to be an Auror (she was top in her specialty at Hogwarts). She would have no trouble securing a position in the Auror training program this coming summer with something like this on her record.

If it was 3 January, that meant classes at Hogwarts started back up for the spring term in three days time. And although my head was killing me, and my body felt unbelievably weak and wobbly, I was determined to be back in time for classes. After all, it would be awfully suspicious if Hogwart's Head Girl were missing in the first week back.

**A/N:** Comments welcome and appreciated. Please review! Thank you to my beta reader MRSSPICY.

*I borrowed the idea of wizardspace from aspeninthesunlight. If you have time, I strongly encourage you to read her stories. They are nice, long reads. She has great dialogue and really good relationships. She is working on a trilogy right now, A Year Like None Other, and you can find her stories on Skyehawke. It is a Sev-adopts Harry story, but it is really good and very believable.

**Ch 36:** Birthmark


	36. Birthmark

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Six: **Birthmark

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_December 6, 1976_

_9 p.m. _

_34 days_

Severus sat in the Slytherin common room, studying a textbook. His housemates, who were all studying or occupying themselves in quiet ways, surrounded him. He sipped peacefully on a glass of water, and he smelt the charred wood of the crackling fire, and he felt content. His mid-term exams were looming, but he wasn't feeling too affected by stress from them.

Instead, he felt calm. He leisurely turned the pages of his book, undisturbed by the soft murmur of conversation around him. He didn't really have to study, as he was in very good shape.

Severus vaguely heard the main door to their common room open and close, and he would have normally paid it no mind had he not heard their Head of House begin to speak.

"Attention, Slytherin House," Slughorn began. "Gather round, please."

Severus was surprised, for their Head of House rarely ever came into the Slytherin common room. He stood up and walked over to where the rest of the students were gathering.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your studying in this way," he began. His eyes were not nearly as happy as they usually were. "Something quite awful is happening. Hogsmeade is under siege."

A collective gasp went around the semi-circle of students gathered. The first and second years grew visibly nervous, but Severus retained his feeling of peace. Next to him, Jezzy and Virginia whispered back and forth with their heads bent.

"No one is to leave the common room tonight, under penalty of immediate expulsion. Headmaster Dumbledore's orders." Slughorn explained. "Is that understood?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Additionally, I will be kipping here with you tonight." He waved his wand once, and in one dark corner of the common room appeared an extravagant, canopied bed. "I suggest we retire now, to our _own_ beds tonight, I should think."

Everyone, of course, turned around and headed to their respective dormitories.

"An attack on Hogsmeade, huh," Judas remarked as the five of them prepared for bed.

Evan shared a look with Severus and Judas, and Severus just turned around to pull on his night shirt. Frederick had already quickly undressed and gotten into his bed. He had been sure to yank his curtains shut violently after sending the room a wretched glare. Thomas was ignoring them as well. He morosely folded his dirty clothes and put them in his hamper, and then lay down in bed, but he didn't close his curtains the way Frederick had. Instead, he just lay there, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Severus straightened his desk, and then accepted the glass of firewhiskey Judas handed to him and Evan. The three of them drank it slowly and silently, and then they too retired to their beds without exchanging a single word.

_December 19, 1976_

_Early morning, 7ish_

_Home in New Mills_

_21 days_

Severus drank his coffee that morning, and read the Daily Prophet closely. The top story involved a dozen or so Death Eaters being prevented from attacking their target Muggle-town Fishguard in Wales. Apparently two young women, whose identities were unknown at the present moment, had apprehended them. One of the women had been rushed to St. Mungo's with serious injuries, and was currently in critical condition.

Severus sat back in his chair and mused silently for a few moments. He was almost sure Lily had told him that she and Emily were traveling through Fishguard on their way to Ireland. Isn't that what she had said? Of course, she could have also traveled through Holyhead, or Pembroke, or Stranraer. And plans did always change at the last moment. He found this development strange, though. He thought about it some more and then decided it was just a coincidence. He was sure that if something had happened, Emily or Lily would have immediately owled him.

He read the article further. The two women had dispatched all fourteen Death Eaters, and the Death Eaters were now rotting in Azkaban, awaiting trial. Most might find it simply astonishing that two young witches had been able to annihilate all of those Death Eaters, but there was much more to it than that.

Severus, quite familiar with the intricacies of the Dark Lord's ranks, knew these were Death Eaters who had never seen the inside of Hogwarts castle before. They were probably borderline-squibs, or merely witches and wizards whose levels of magic had never met the levels required of a Hogwarts student. There were many of these sorts of people running around the country, running around the world, in fact. Half educated by their parents, or perhaps by themselves, they were a danger and a menace to wizarding and Muggle society alike, but there frankly was nothing illegal about their presence and practice of magic once they were of legal age to do so.

About three-quarters of wizarding society was made up of these types of people, and the Dark Lord was very fascinated and encouraged by their presence. They made for perfect pawns and excellent cannon fodder in the Dark Lord's ranks, as they were easily manipulated. Uneducated bumpkins could be told and taught anything, and they would believe it, hold it close, value it as the all-encompassing truth.

The Dark Lord promised them greater recognition in society. They would no longer be held in such low-esteem by the educated portion of wizarding society, for he had promised them positions of prestige.

This was how the Dark Lord snagged 95% of the witches and wizards in his ranks. The other 5% were attracted for their own individual reasons, for reasons and promises shared secretly and quietly between himself and the Dark Lord.

_December 21, 1976_

_19 days_

Severus was beginning to feel concerned he had heard nothing from Lily, especially since he had sent her a letter two days previously. He was sure she was having a very good time in Ireland, but was she so busy she couldn't send him a two or three sentence note?

He told himself that if she hadn't contacted him by the end of the day, he was sending her another, more urgent note. Maybe he could even send Professor Figg a note, since that's whom she was staying with.

He didn't have to wait long, though. He received this letter from a disgruntled and very moody Lotte in the late afternoon.

_Severus,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written you sooner, but Dublin is brilliant! Emily and I have decided to stay in Ireland for the remainder of Christmas hols, so I will see you on the Express in a couple weeks. _

_Lily_

Her hand had been rushed, and he thought it didn't look too much like her handwriting at all, and he didn't think the attitude was right either, but he was content with the communication nonetheless.

_Friday, January 7, 1977- Sunday, January 9, 1977_

_Two-Zero Days_

Severus and Lily shut themselves into the Room of Requirement for the weekend. They had never taken advantage of the Room in quite this manner before, but Severus felt he quite deserved a nice long weekend with her and only her. This the Room was able to give them.

They both insured that they would not be missed by their housemates over the weekend, and practically ran to the Room to meet one another. They had met twice since classes had resumed the day before, but they had been unable to secure alone time.

The Room had generated a comfortable bedding area, as well as a settee, a fireplace, and a kitchen/dining area. Severus had looked oddly at Lily, who had arranged the Room, when he saw the kitchenette.

"Severus, I bought some cooking books when I was in Ireland," she explained. "And I have never cooked for you before. I wish to tempt my wand this weekend." She grinned mischievously.

"Are you sure you're adept at these charms?" he asked dubiously, flipping through one of the books.

"Sev, we've been practicing cooking charms for the last month with Flitwick," she replied dismissively. "Besides, who are _you_ to doubt _me_ in Charms?" She poked him playfully in the stomach, where she knew he was most decidedly _not_ ticklish.

"Very well," he replied, contenting himself with lounging on the settee. "What's on the menu?"

"Well, I was thinking a good potato cake for tonight, and then in the morning we could do a huge Irish breakfast, and then for lunch I was…" Her voice slowly tapered off into lilting background music as he stared at her, her back to him as she bustled around the mini-kitchen. Her hair had grown very long, and now reached the small of her back. It was smooth, and rippled like a cherry-colored wheat field whenever she tossed her head a little bit.

They spent much of the weekend this way. She cooked for him, they lazed around, took advantage of one another and their alone time. It turned out that she was pretty good at cooking, although a bit of a novice. He particularly enjoyed the Dublin Coddle that she made Saturday evening for dinner. His thoughts were nowhere but in that Room with her. Sunday evening didn't even cross his mind until Sunday evening. The weekend ended all too quickly, though, and soon they were bidding adieu outside of the Room.

"I have so much work to tend to," Lily said, hurriedly giving him a kiss on the nose. "Thanks so much for the wonderful weekend, Sev. Additionally, happy, happy birthday. I'll see you at dinner?"

"I won't be at dinner tonight," he said curtly. "I've arranged for my mother to meet me in Hogsmeade for dinner."

"Oh, that's nice!" she exclaimed excitedly. "How is your mother, anyway?"

"Fine, I suppose," he replied, shrugging a little bit.

"Okay." She stood on tip toes to kiss his face again. "I'm so sorry I don't have your birthday present. Owl-order was supposed to have it here several days ago. I suppose any day now, we should expect it."

"Don't worry at all, dear," he assured her. "I just need _you_ to be happy."

"And you have me." She leaned her body into his, and they were pressed together tightly. He felt his stomach and his groin clench with desire, but he didn't have time for another quickie. He gripped her upper arms gently, and peeled her off him.

"I'm running short on time," he explained to her. "I'm meeting my mother at six."

"Does Dumbledore know you're going to Hogsmeade?" Lily inquired.

"Consequently, no," he replied.

"Severus! You know we aren't supposed to be going into Hogsmeade at all! We aren't even supposed to leave school grounds! What are you thinking?"

"Lily, I am_ more_ than capable of fending for myself. Thank you, though."

"I don't think you're being very wise." She stepped back further away from him, and folded her arms across her chest.

"I'll be fine." He bent his head down to kiss her nose. "Now run along and work on your assignments." He turned her around a bit roughly, and smacked her on the bottom to get her moving in the direction of her common room. She turned her head around and glared suspiciously at him, but then proceeded towards Gryffindor tower.

He watched her go; he was quite aware this would be the last time he laid eyes on her as an innocent.

He made it back to his dormitory in record time. He insured the door was locked fast, and then undressed completely. He stared at his unmarked forearms, feeling neither excitement nor terror. He felt nothing.

Severus stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark: something was shrouded in them. His hair hung down in lanky strands, framing his face like a picture. His nose was huge and over-dramatized by his angular cheekbones and his narrow chin. He swallowed heavily, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

He recalled one of the better kisses Lily had ever given him. She had kissed him that morning, right when they woke, deeper than usual. She gave him strength. His throat ached with what he was about to do.

But he had made this choice. In fact, he had made it years ago. There was no turning back now.

He stepped away from the long, oval mirror for a moment, and opened his trunk. Shoved in one corner was a tall, dusty bottle of single malt Scotch. He grasped the neck in one hand, and plucked up an equally dusty snifter. He set these on his neat desk blotter, quickly cleaned the snifter, and then poured himself a small amount of Scotch. Then, after administering a freshening charm to himself, proceeded to get dressed.

He drank slowly, relishing the taste of the liquor, as he carefully selected each article of clothing he was to wear that night. He chose his nicest pair of black slacks, and a midnight blue shirt. Over all this he had planned the nicer of the two cloaks he owned.

When he was fully dressed, sans his cloak, he stood in front of his desk and drank the rest of the Scotch in his glass in one gulp. Then he quickly poured himself another, and held it in his hand for a few moments, his lips drawn together in a tight line and his eyes staring straight ahead.

Everything he had ever known had built up to this night. He had crafted himself for this, had prepared his mind, his body, his very soul. Everything he ever thought he was hovered here, in this moment.

He downed the Scotch in the glass, and then turned to leave, grabbing his cloak and making sure his wand was tucked safely within reach. And he was off the Hogwarts grounds before he had time to even think about it.

Saloma, his escort, was leaning casually against the stonewall surrounding the castle.

"Done brooding, I hope," she said. She pushed herself off the wall, and slunk over towards him. "You _are_ ready for this."

"Yes," he replied, agreeing with her.

"Then let's go." She smiled slightly at him, and held out her arm for him to touch. He had barely laid a finger on her skin before she Apparated them away to Malfoy grounds.

Severus had never been to Malfoy Manor before, and had never, in fact, met any of the Malfoys. They landed in the little receiving clearing, and before Severus had time to think, a house elf was there giving them a Portkey, and the next thing Severus knew, he was in the foyer, one of the grandest places he had ever been.

Of course, he revealed none of his surprise or anxiety, and Saloma looked at him curiously.

"Sir and Miss must follow Mandy," Severus heard to his right. A tiny house elf was there, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Masters are waiting for dinner."

She led them away up a staircase, through a couple doors, and then they were in a small dining room. The two Malfoy men sat at the end of the table, the older one at the head and his son at his right. They both stood up when Severus and Saloma entered.

"Sir Severus Snape, and Miss Saloma Yaxley," the house elf announced.

Severus and Saloma filed down the right side of the table, and remained standing through the formalities.

"Abraxas Malfoy," the older man introduced himself to Severus. "And my son, Lucius Malfoy."

"Severus Snape," Severus replied. He took his wand out and held it in front of him, waiting for Abraxas to respond.

Abraxas just quirked an eyebrow. "You are not a pureblood."

"No, sir," Severus replied unabashedly. "But I would like to observe pureblood customs while in the home of one."

Abraxas' eyes revealed the smallest hint of satisfaction. He took his wand out as well, and touched it to the tip of Severus'. Their wands glowed an ivory white, and warmth soaked down from the tip into their hands.

Severus turned his wand toward Lucius, who had not taken his out. Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"I don't believe this is orthodox," he said silkily.

"Lucius, take out your wand. **Now**," Abraxas said, softly but firmly. Lucius colored a small bit, but did as he was told.

After their wands greeted one another, and they had all finally taken their seats, the house elves began circulating wine and other beverages.

"Severus," Abraxas began, after taking a small sip of his drink. He stared directly into Severus' eyes. "The Dark Lord brags about you to all of his followers. Not by name, of course. But most of us know who you are."

"Through gossip, you know," Lucius supplied.

"Death Eaters do not gossip, Lucius," Abraxas said, not taking his eyes away from Severus' face. Abraxas took another drink out of his glass before continuing. "You're quite the notorious brewer."

Severus said nothing. The house elves served the first course of food.

"I'm just curious. What would a half-blood such as yourself, a brilliant half-blood no doubt, gain from joining the Dark Lord's ranks?"

Severus stared straight into Abraxas' light gray eyes. He didn't blink once.

"Sir, I will never apologize for being a half-blood. It is true that my father is a muggle. I, however, do not consider myself his son in any sense of the word. In my opinion, I am fatherless. My mother fills my life with all I will ever need, and in addition to this, she has implanted in my mind the hungry thirst for knowledge."

"Knowledge is power," Abraxas agreed, nodding ever so slightly.

"Knowledge is all that I crave," Severus explained simply.

"There will be other duties required of you," Abraxas continued. He broke eye contact with Severus finally, and turned to his steaming bowl of soup. "You're aware of this, correct? It isn't all just research and subsequent brewing. I know the last year as been quite easy for you, in this respect. But after tonight, you will be expected to do much more for your community, and for your fellow brothers."

"I'm quite cognizant of all this, sir," Severus replied. "I've been an active member of the USDL for several years now, and—"

"That organization," Abraxas interrupted, shaking his head a fraction. The tiniest trace of disdain crept into his voice. "Yes, it explains the infrastructure of the Dark Lord's ideas, the entire fantastic way his followers are organized by rank, experience, expectation, dedication. It details and informs its students of the ideologies they must be aware of. It stresses the immense importance of discretion, secrecy, the ability to lie, mislead, manipulate under any circumstance. But does it _really, truly_ teach you what it is to stand in the Dark Lord's presence? To feel his power? To breathe the same air he breathes?"

Severus knew a rhetorical question when asked one.

"It doesn't. You can never be prepared to meet the Dark Lord for the first time. His presence is stronger, more commanding, more demanding than anything you can ever imagine ten-fold. And this is the most important thing to remember. You will never, ever deserve to be kept in his company. None of us are, nor will we ever be. You must remember this, and humble yourself to it. And be infinitely grateful that the Dark Lord suffers your half-wit and intolerable self. I remember this, and am grateful for it every nanosecond of my waking life."

Severus said nothing in response to Abraxas' speech. Instead, he ate his soup delicately. It was quite delicious, as were the courses that followed.

And finally, dinner was over, and they did not have to wait long before Saloma, Lucius and Abraxas received their call. It was quite interesting to watch as their eyes rolled into the backs of their heads. Severus wondered if the Dark Lord somehow transported an image of his location in this way.

They all stood up then, and before Severus had time to gather his guts, Saloma was wrenching his arm away into another world.

They landed stolidly on their feet. It was completely pitch black, cold, moist and drippy, but Severus knew he was inside. Maybe in a dungeon somewhere.

Lucius flared his wand up, and Abraxas led the way through stonewalled tunnels, a labyrinth of dark corridors. Every so often, they would pass a cell in which a prisoner sat hunched over a bench, or perhaps they were chained to the wall, or hung from the ceiling. In addition to these paradigms of torture and suffering, a cry of anguished terror could be heard every three or four minutes echoing through the labyrinth. The cry came from everywhere: behind them, in front of them, to their left, right, above, below them. And it scorched Severus to the bone.

Finally, just when Severus was starting to wonder if Abraxas really, truly knew where he was going, they came to a heavy dungeon door. Abraxas spoke in cryptic, jumbled and archaic Latin for about a minute, and then held his wand up. The end of it had molded into a perfect skeleton key, and he fit it snugly into the keyhole in the door. It creaked something awful, and Abraxas pushed the door open with his shoulder. Lucius ushered Saloma and Severus in.

A faceless servant immediately approached them, and demanded their wands. Severus reluctantly forfeited his. The servant also took their cloaks from them. Severus felt disconcerted by the servant's lack of facial features. A pale expanse of skin was stretched over the cheekbones and cartilage of the nose. It was as if the Dark Lord had taken a huge eraser and merely banished all trace of humanity from his help.

The servant left them then, and Abraxas led the way into a chamber off to the right of the room. Before Severus had time to gather his wits about him, he came face-to-face with the Dark Lord, who was sitting in an elaborate throne-like chair on a raised dais.

He was immediately assaulted with Legilimency, and he bared all of his thoughts for the Dark Lord. He allowed him into every crevice of his mind, for after all, he had nothing to hide. The Dark Lord wrung his brain out like a wet rag, and finally satisfied, turned away to observe the rest of their entourage.

"Yaxley, _what_ are you doing here?" he barked. "Did I give you permission to come tonight?"

"My Lord, Severus didn't know the way to Malfoy Manor," Saloma explained desperately.

"Silence!" the Dark Lord bellowed.

Saloma fell to her knees.

"Abraxas," the Dark Lord. "I thought I explained to you that I wanted this meeting to be exclusive. That means no one else except those I _personally_ invite." He said this with such venom Severus was surprised his neck didn't elongate into an adder's.

"My Lord, my deepest apologies," Abraxas began. He bowed his head down. "Lucius assured me that Saloma had gotten written permission from you."

"Lies!" the Dark Lord bellowed again. "And complete and utter insolence! Lucius, are you able to discern a lie from the truth?"

"Yes, my Lord—"

"It certainly doesn't seem like it," the Dark Lord interrupted. "Take this worthless _girl_ from my presence and punish her for her disobedience. Use the empty cell down the hall from here."

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius replied, bowing his head slightly. He wrenched Saloma to her feet, and Severus caught a quick glimpse of her face. What he thought he would see was terror and anticipation for what was to come. Instead, he saw the smallest smile of satisfaction. Sadistic desire had darkened her eyes from the white-blue they usually were to opaque iron.

When they had gone, the Dark Lord sighed heavily, as if the entire world rested on his shoulders, and all his followers could do was disobey him. He leaned an elbow on an arm of his chair, and rested his face disconsolately in his hand.

"Bring the initiate closer, Abraxas," he said into his hand.

"Yes, my Lord." Abraxas touched Severus' arm gently, and guided him towards the dais.

"Abraxas, go and wait with Wilkes and Yaxley in the other room," the Dark Lord continued. "I wish to speak with Severus alone for the time being."

"Of course, my Lord." Abraxas bowed, and backed out of the room.

Severus stood absolutely still, and waited for the Dark Lord to speak. His clothing was itching him, and his shoes were too tight on his feet, and he was beginning to feel all-around quite uncomfortable, but he didn't dare move. The Dark Lord remained in his hunched over position for quite some time, until he finally lifted his head out of his hand. His eyes were closed, and he raised his head up towards the ceiling. The smell emanating off the Dark Lord was intoxicating, all raw power and ancient magic and terrifying condescension. But Severus did not feel afraid. In fact, he wondered if the Dark Lord could ever instill fear in him. He was dubious.

Finally, the Dark Lord tilted his head back down and opened his eyes. They bored directly into Severus' own. They were cat-like and awful and glorious and fearful and shiny.

"Don't ever lie to me," he said simply and slowly.

Severus shook and nodded his head at the same time, so it looked almost like he was stretching a crick in his neck. The Dark Lord stood up and busied himself with his robes. He slicked his hands back over his head, as if he was smoothing hair back, but he was quite bald, so the action looked kind of odd. He stepped down off the dais, and the way his long black robes moved around him reminded Severus suddenly of the way a monk's robes flow and cascade around the body. And he proceeded towards the main room without a word.

Severus followed him, not too closely, and he saw that Abraxas was waiting there, as well as Gregory Yaxley, Saloma's father, and Malcolm Wilkes. They were dressed crisply in their robes and masks, and Severus felt a surge of pride.

The Dark Lord motioned with one of his hands where Severus should stand, and then he approached one of his faceless servants, who was standing still, holding a thin, silver tray with one heavy glass in the middle. It was filled with translucent and vapory-liquid that swarmed around and licked the lip of the glass.

The Dark Lord plucked the glass off the tray, and the servant stepped back against the wall. The Dark Lord turned towards Severus, his expression vacant. He began to quote a well-rehearsed recitation.

"I developed this potion when I first started building my army. It's a compilation of different tests, and if you survive the digestion of this potion, then it's obvious you're strong and loyal enough to serve me. At the time of full digestion of this potion, which is at the end of the next twenty-four hours, the Dark Mark will be branded onto your arm. If you fail, you'll be dead, and no witch or wizard will ever be able to determine the cause of death. Please step forward."

Severus stepped stolidly forward, all the while occluding. He was beginning to doubt the sanity of the man standing before him, and these thoughts were developing in his mind when he was interrupted by a quivering voice from behind the Dark Lord.

"My Lord, are you aware of his liaisons with a mudblood?"

Severus cringed and shut his eyes, expecting retribution.

"That is your Lord's business, Wilkes. No one else's. How dare you speak out of turn."

"I'm terribly sorry, my Lord," Wilkes replied, bowing his head down. "I just thought you should be aware—"

"You think I can't figure these things out for **myself**?" The Dark Lord suddenly bellowed. The glass he was holding in his hand crashed to the floor, and the vapory-liquid flowed into the cracks of the stone floor like mercury. "All of you **fools** think I can't figure out anything, do you?" And without warning, he cast Crucio on all three of his followers. Severus swallowed a bit of his tongue. All the while, the Dark Lord muttered horribly under his breath, and Severus began to feel waves of hot air cascading over his body. It didn't take long for him to realize the Dark Lord was emanating those heat waves of anger.

Finally, he turned away from the three men, and the curse fell off them. He waved a hand at the floor, and the glass and liquid disappeared, and then he waved a hand at his faceless servant. Before Severus could blink, the servant was presenting the tray to the Dark Lord, another heavy glass tumbler on it with more of the same potion, and in turn, the Dark Lord was presenting that same tumbler to Severus.

"Drink, child."

And Severus drank.

_Monday, January 10, 1977_

_11 p.m._

Severus sat upright in his curtained bed, exhausted and sweaty and hungry from the battle his body had endured for the last 24 hours. And he stared down at his pale forearms. His left was swollen and sore and inked into it was his tattoo.

He thought it quite beautiful and painful to look at.

And underneath all that he was thinking, the smallest seed of doubt blossomed.

**A/N: **Comments welcome. Please review, and thanks to the several reviews I got last time. Thank you to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.


	37. Vomit

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: **Vomit

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_You'll always know the reason why/we couldn't have the moon and the sky." Sade_

_Monday, January 10, 1977_

Monday morning classes consisted of an hour of Herbology with Professor Sprout, a half hour's study break, and then an hour of charms with Professor Flitwick. I had always enjoyed Herbology class, partly because of its relationship with Potions, and partly because I shared the class with Severus. In our younger years, Gryffindor had shared the Herbology block with Hufflepuff, but in the later years, because the classes were smaller, all of the houses were crammed together. So we had taken to sharing a workbench with each other. And so, of course I noticed when he failed to show in class that morning.

Frederick Wilkes was one of the other two Slytherins in that morning class, and I approached him delicately when Professor Sprout dismissed us. He was held up cleaning a nasty mess that a particularly volatile plant had left behind on his bag.

"Wilkes," I said. I was standing behind him, almost eye level with his neck. I was a pretty tall girl, and not many boys in our year were taller than me, but Frederick ranked among the ones who were. He ignored my presence. "Wilkes," I repeated, a bit louder. He still ignored me. So I tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped clear out of his skin, and in turn I jumped back and fell into a workbench. He turned around and caught my arm, and pulled me back up onto my feet.

"Excuse me, Evans," he said politely. "I was distracted." He indicated the awful, bright violet stain he was attempting to clean.

"You don't know any good cleaning charms?" I inquired.

"Charms isn't my best subject," he admitted with no qualms.

I slipped my wand from out of my pocket and cast the strongest cleaning charm I knew. In a matter of seconds, the stain was gone and the pale khaki color of his bag gleamed brighter than new.

"Most effective," he said as way of thanks. He slung it over one shoulder, and turned away to leave.

"Excuse me, Wilkes," I said meekly. "Can you hold on a moment?"

"What?" He turned around, and his bright, shiny gray eyes flashed quickly.

"Ummm," I stammered. Suddenly, my reason for disturbing his peace seemed quite pointless. "I was hoping you could tell me where Severus is?"

"He seems to have left already for his next class," Wilkes pointedly remarked.

"No," I shook my head patiently. "You misunderstand me. Severus wasn't present in class this morning."

"I hadn't noticed at all," he replied. He shrugged the shoulder not weighed down by his bag.

"Did you see him in your dorm this morning?"

"No, I figured he'd already left. He usually closes his bed curtains in the morning for some reason. They were closed this morning when I woke up, so I assumed he'd gone to breakfast already."

"Oh," I mused, twisting my lips in bewilderment and staring down at the floor.

Frederick stared at me. "Well?" he asked.

"Thank you," I replied. He turned and left without another word.

I stared around at the curling vines of plants, wondering. Severus had only ever missed class once, in third year, when he was violently ill with wizarding pneumonia. He was laid up in the hospital wing for a week, and I had brought him his work, and sat with him for most of the time he was there. He had few other visitors.

So I set out for the hospital wing, thinking I had enough time before Charms to ask Madam Pomfrey about his whereabouts.

"Severus?" she said. "I haven't seen him here, he never reported any illness. The house elves haven't reported any sick-ups either. Not from Slytherin anyway. Now Ravenclaw is a different story…" And she babbled on about Ravenclaw's sick-up report from the house elves.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," I said. She barely noticed I was leaving; she was so busy rushing around between beds, aiding what looked like the fourth and fifth year Ravenclaws.

I made my way slowly to Charms, starting to worry. After Charms was my lunch break, so instead of going to the Hall with Emily, I went to Professor Slughorn's office.

"Severus? I haven't seen him m'dear. Now, I would really like to talk to you about your final year project. How's it coming along? I was hoping we could present it to the Board at the Ministry!"

I was quite happy to hear him talk about something like this, but I was also starting to get very nervous regarding Severus.

"Yes, Professor," I said hurriedly. "That's something that would certainly interest me."

"They should know how much hard work you're getting up to here," he continued enthusiastically, getting up from the chair behind his desk and maneuvering around his furniture. It was slightly difficult for him though, as his office was quite crowded with what seemed to be unnecessary accessories, and he was quite plump. "I do, of course, mention both Severus' and your names whenever we professors meet with the Board, and they are quite familiar with the work you're both doing. Can I tell you something, though? And can you be absolutely certain to keep it between you and I?"

I almost knew already what he was going to say. "Of course, Professor Slughorn."

He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. "I think your research will be quite successful, will perhaps even revolutionize the way we wizards view potions. You are starting to view them dynamically, as opposed to statically. And this is unheard of! I myself have never considered this sort of thing before. To imagine potions in this way! To think of them as beings alive, instead of stagnant liquid controlled by ingredients! It's fantastic, unorthodox!" By this time, he was almost yelling, he was so excited. "To put it in as few words as possible, I believe your success with potions will go much further than the Board." And he winked.

"Thanks so much, Professor," I said. My cheeks were warmed by his praise. "I have to be getting to Runes class, though."

"Of course, of course," he said. "Run along, m'dear."

I pushed his words from my head for the time being, only to fret more about Severus. I was starting to wonder if he had even made it back home from Hogsmeade last night!

Ancient Runes felt like a four-hour class, when it was actually only one hour long. And when Severus was absent from our last class of the day, Defense, I knew I had to be very concerned.

I snagged Emily at the end of class. She had been talking to Morgan, about what I don't know, and at the moment I didn't quite care. Potter was standing quite close by as well, but it hardly mattered.

"Emily," I said hurriedly, trying to speak softly. I don't know why I was trying for discretion. "Sev hasn't been to any of his classes."

"Maybe he's sick," Emily replied, shrugging her shoulder. "Honestly, you think I care where he is?"

"I know _you_ don't care, but I thought you might worry because _I _care."

"Odd logic. If I don't care, I don't care. Please Lily, you know how I feel about Snape."

"Of course I know! Can't you just sympathize once?" I exasperated.

"No." She shook her head with finality, and walked off with Morgan Kent.

I looked around frustrated, biting my lip, and my eyes lit upon Potter, who was leaning against a wall. His arms were folded across his chest and he was staring at me directly. I was quite desperate at this point.

"Severus went into Hogsmeade last night," I told him. "What if he never came back? Frederick didn't see him this morning at all."

"Why're you telling me? What d'you think I can do?"

"Help me! I'm Head Girl, you're Head Boy! And this could be a case of missing student!"

"I highly doubt it's that extreme, Evans," Potter replied diplomatically. "Maybe he's just sick?"

I groaned in frustration. "Severus never gets sick! I've only known him to get sick once, ever, in all the years I've known him!"

"Why don't we just tell Dumbledore?" Potter suggested. "Dumbledore knows everything that goes on in this castle."

"I don't want anyone to know Severus went into Hogsmeade. It's against the rules. He could get expelled."

Potter narrowed his eyes, maybe wondering why I had told him, Severus' arch-enemy, all of this. "Well, we _are_ Head students, and we took an oath at the beginning of last term to report any mal-behavior, especially if said behavior endangers any student. If Severus did go into Hogsmeade, and you knew about it, and he got hurt, you would probably lose your Head status."

All of a sudden I realized he was telling the absolute truth. "I _have_ to know where he is."

"Did you check Slytherin common room?"

"No, I don't even know where that is! Do you?"

"Incidentally, yes," Potter smirked. "Would you like me to show you?"

All of my hatred of Potter was forgotten in these moments. Right then, he was just a means to finding Severus. So, "yes!"

He set off quickly, and I hurried to keep in step.

"Why don't you know where Slytherin common room is anyways, especially seeing as how you and Severus are best mates, and practically dating? Are you dating? I never really received confirmation either way."

"Shut up, Potter. That's really none of your business."

"I was just trying to make small-talk."

I rolled my eyes, and followed him down into the dungeons. After we had been walking a little while, I started to wonder how Potter knew where Slytherin house was.

"Oh, you know," he replied when I asked.

"No, I don't."

"Just an innocent, first-year's wanderings."

"I doubt it."

Potter didn't say anything to that. He was walking uncomfortably close to me, and I felt strangeness at our proximity. And I couldn't quite figure out what that strangeness was, or what it meant.

"Here we are," Potter announced. He halted in front of a bare expanse of stonewall.

"What are you talking about? This is just a wall!"

"The Slytherins think they're so clever, hiding their common room behind a wall. It's not so hard to find, though." And Potter slid his wand out from the waistband of his jeans, and tapped it stolidly on one of the bricks. He kept tapping and tapping, for quite a long time, and I almost told him to stop his whack theatrics and take me to the _real_ Slytherin common room when a crack in the wall appeared, and the wall sunk in and slid over to the right a small bit. I leaned over against Potter, who didn't move at all, and we both stared into the dark crack.

"Password?" A dark voice asked.

"No password," Potter replied. "The Head Boy and Girl are here. We would like to speak to the seventh year Prefects."

The wall slid shut and we stared at it for some time, before it finally slid open a ways, and Tori stepped out.

"Business?" she said. "Hello, Lily." She smiled tiredly at me.

"Shelsher, is Snape in there?"

"Actually no," she replied. "I've kind of been wondering where he's been all day. I mean, I haven't been _too_ worried." She shrugged slightly, and grimaced her mouth.

"Well I am!" I said. "Can't you please see if he's up in his dorm room?"

"Sure, Lily." The door slid shut again. I started to bite my lip nervously.

"Did you owl him or anything?" Potter asked me.

"No, I didn't even think about it," I replied.

The wall slid open again, and this time Frederick stepped out. "Severus is in his room, sleeping. He told me just now, he wasn't feeling well today. He told me to tell you he should be back in classes tomorrow morning."

Relief washed over me. "Thank you, Frederick. I was so worried."

"Why?" Frederick asked.

"I just had a weird feeling s'all," I explained. "It's nothing, though, obviously."

"Okay, good evening," Frederick said to us both, and he turned around and went back into Slytherin common room. The wall slid back into place.

"You were worried about wittle ickle Sevikins," Potter said in a gooey, sickening voice. I punched him in the arm and started to walk ahead, before realizing I had no idea where we were.

"Show me the way back to Gryffindor," I demanded heatedly.

"Only if you give me two kisses, one for showing you the way down, and one for showing the way back up." He moved closer to me, and reached out to touch my hips with his hands, a cocky jest reflecting off his glasses.

"You're insufferable, Potter," I replied almost playfully, pushing him away. And he didn't even push the subject. He led me back upstairs, an odd companionship stretching itself subtly, almost imperceptibly, between our hips.

I saw Severus quite a lot over the next couple weeks. He told me Tuesday morning how sorry he was that he had missed Monday classes, but he had been terribly ill in his room- delirious even!

"Why didn't you tell Madam Pomfrey?"

"I couldn't even function, Lils."

"Well, I'm glad you're better now." I kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

Before I knew it, it was my birthday.

_Sunday, January 30, 1977_

_Meet me in RR, 9 p.m._

I smiled with glee. I just knew Severus had something fantastic planned for my birthday.

I went and stood outside the door, waiting. I had dressed especially for the occasion, in a long, sleek, black, backless dress. My hair was twisted into a low bun, pinned with invisible hairpin. I even felt beautiful that night.

And I was even more excited for a reason unbeknownst to Severus. He had told me countless times that he loved me, but I had never reciprocated the statement. I hadn't been sure before, but I was starting to realize that what I was feeling was love. What else could it be?

The door in front of me opened to reveal Severus' towering form, dressed neatly in crisp, clean robes.

"You look… more stunning than words can say."

I blushed slightly, and thanked him, before moving past to enter the Room. He had generated a lovely, French terrace. A violin hung in the air, playing exquisite music, and a first course of cheese and wine waited on the little table set for two.

"Shall we?" He asked, gesturing towards the table.

We sat down, and ate, and joked sensually, and I relished, really relished the time we spent. Severus looked happier than I had ever seen him, and I felt happier than I perhaps had ever felt.

After dessert, he banished the table with a thought, and in its place appeared a bed, white down comforter and pillows lavished over top of it. I smiled, and began to slip my arms through my dress. He began undressing as well, and soon we were naked, staring at one another across five feet of space.

I wouldn't have noticed under normal circumstances, but I was hypersensitive to what was going on around me, because of what I was planning on telling Severus at some point that night. So I noticed a slight smudged-air quality hovering around his left forearm: almost as if he had performed a poor glamour on that part of his body. And then he turned, and moved towards the bed, and my eyes slipped beneath the glamour, and what I saw made my heart drop on top of my feet. My lips began to numb, my heart began to beat and thud quickly against my ankles. I swallowed, and gathered myself, and slipped a subtle smile onto my lips.

"Join me on the bed, love," he said sweetly. His eyes pleaded for human contact.

"Pardon me, Sev," I said. "My monthly. It just came earlier today." I brushed it off with a short, staccato laugh, feeling quite unlike myself. "I don't know what I was thinking." And I started to pull my dress back up over my legs.

"Your monthly? It was just here a couple weeks ago…"

"Well, you know how irregular it is."

"No, I don't."

"You never noticed? It's actually _quite _irregular. I can never predict when it's going to plague me."

"I thought it was the most predictable thing in the world."

"Well, you obviously thought wrong." I snapped. I slipped my feet into my shoes.

"Where're you going? We can still lay here, like we normally do."

"Actually, I'm feeling quite ill. I think it's the caviar." And I wasn't lying when I said this. I could feel the bile, the sick-up, the vomit, itching at my uvula to expel itself. And if I didn't get out of the room, as far away from him as possible, I was going to hurl all over the bed.

"You do look quite pale," he observed. "I'm awfully sorry darling, to disappoint. I just wanted us to enjoy each other tonight. It's your birthday!"

"I know what today is, thanks," I said. "I have to leave."

"Of course, love—" and before he could finish his sentence, I had left the room, and was running down the stone hall, away from Gryffindor tower, away from the Room of Requirement, as far away from people and as deep into the seventh floor as I could manage.

Hours later, I was curled on the floor, my hair fallen from its bun and stuck to my face. Piles of sick-up lay all around me, like a chalked ritual circle. I was exhausted from the heaving; my eyes were dry and stinging from tears. I stared hopelessly up at the ceiling, unable to really comprehend my situation now. It wasn't the time to think, only the time to feel.

And I couldn't imagine feeling worse if Severus had died.

I couldn't process anything. It wouldn't have mattered to me if the ceiling had started to collapse around me at that moment. I would have continued lying there, hopelessly. And I did. I remained in that same spot for the rest of the long, cold, horrible night, until dawn's pale grey light began filtering through the closest windows. And then, I picked myself up off the floor, cleaned the sick-up before the house elves reported to it, and then walked slowly, achingly, back to my room.

_Monday, January 31, 1977_

When I saw what I looked like that morning, I nearly vomited again into the sink underneath my mirror. My hair was dull, my face pale and awfully drawn, my make-up sunk into the deep, deep bags hanging low underneath my eyes. My lips were chapped and colorless, and my freckles had all but disappeared from my skin. But I freshened up anyway, undressed, dressed in my school uniform, gathered my schoolbooks and went to breakfast.

"Lily, you look _awful_ this morning!" Emily exclaimed at breakfast. Her and Remus were sharing a crossword.

"Thanks for the honesty," I replied waspishly. I was effectively _not_ thinking about what had happened the night before. I sat next to her, and poured myself a cup of coffee, which I quickly downed. I followed this with two more cups, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep any solid food down.

"You can't drink all that coffee without having at least some toast or something," Emily said. "You're going to be jittery as bloody hell today!"

"I'm not hungry, Em," I replied. "I can't eat. I might vomit."

"Are you ill?"

"It's just my monthly." I said this without qualms, even though Remus was sitting in close proximity, as well as Potter.

"Well, you could probably miss classes! You haven't missed hardly any classes, Lily! Why don't you take a break?"

"I don't need one," I replied. "I have to go, or I'll be late for Herbology."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and turned back to her crossword puzzle.

I sat down at my usual bench. I thought it best to act as if nothing odd had happened. I don't know why I felt this way, but I certainly blessed my foresight later.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Severus sat down closely next to me, and I inwardly cringed at the contact, even though it existed through several layers of cloth.

"Fine," I replied, smiling tightly through drawn lips. "Thanks for asking. Did you finish the assignment Sprout handed out last time?"

"Of course," he replied.

Nothing was wrong.

Classes carried on much like that for the rest of the day. I was exhausted by the end of Defense, and not just because I had spent the previous night sleeplessly lying on a cold stone floor. I was exhausted from acting as if the colors of my world hadn't completely inverted in on themselves.

"I'll see you after dinner?" Severus inquired of me.

"Of course."

He bent to give me a kiss, but I quickly ducked. "I'm still feeling a little vomity from last night."

"You said earlier you were fine."

"I didn't want to disrupt classes."

"Okay," he said. He didn't suspect a damn thing, and in that moment I felt a hot spear of anger rush through my body like lightening. I felt my hair curl a little bit with the crackling magic. "I'll see you after dinner." He repeated.

"Of course." Like nothing was wrong.

And in that moment, I made the decision that changed my life forever.

**A/N: **I hope you all enjoyed this. Let me know what you think. Thanks to my beta reader, MRSSPICY!

**Ch 38: **Interlude, Albus Dumbledore


	38. Interlude, Albus Dumbledore

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: **Interlude, Albus Dumbledore

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

_Monday, January 31, 1977_

_Late Evening_

When Lily Evans came to me, I had not a clue as to what she could need. I thought maybe she was having troubles with James, or with one of her professors, although she had never been at odds with any of my staff during all the time she had been a student there. She rarely ever had trouble with _anyone_ at the school, except James, and maybe a few Slytherins.

The words coming out of her mouth as she stood in front of my desk did surprise me, not because I thought that something like this would never happen, but because I thought something like this wouldn't happen so soon. I thought she had more of a sway over Severus Snape.

"Severus has been marked," she said. A bit of red color rode high in her otherwise pale cheeks, but aside from that, her distress, if she felt any at all, was entirely internal. "And I know telling you is a huge betrayal, but I have no idea what else to do." She sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk in a huff. Her fluffy red hair flew up around her ears and then settled down delicately.

I just stared at her, my hand halfway to my mouth, a quill between my pointer and middle fingers, a quizzical look in my eye. I had been answering a letter from the Mistress of Magic when she knocked on my inner office door. She, of course, knew the password, being a Head Student.

I set my quill down slowly next to my letter, and pushed everything aside for the moment, to reveal a clean, gleaming, walnut desk, ancient and beautiful. Did she love him? I had always wondered. It was quite obvious what he felt for her, but Lily Evans' emotions were more obscure.

"How does this make you feel?" I asked.

"Awful, angry, hateful, betrayed." That last word came out of her mouth with a hitch.

A lot of thoughts were running through my brain at this point.

"We have several options here," I began. "Firstly, would you like some tea? Perhaps something a bit stronger?"

Lily nodded slowly, and I conjured two glasses halfway full of dark, dark red wine. She accepted it graciously, and took a small sip.

"Now, as I said, you have a few choices here. First is the quite obvious one. You can turn him in to the Ministry of Magic, and he would be detained and incarcerated in Azkaban. Something tells me this is not what you want."

She shook her head, the colors in her cheeks darkening as she sipped her drink.

"Did he willfully tell you?"

"No, Professor." She gulped another mouthful, and set the glass down on my desk. "I think he tried to perform a glamour or something. In any case, it was very badly done, because I could almost see right through it."

"Ah, yes. Lord Voldemort would make it impossible to obscure his mark. After all, he wants his followers to proudly bear their imprisonment. The fact that Severus was able to obscure it at all is quite extraordinary."

She didn't say anything, just stared at her wine glass. Her eyes were darkening along with her cheeks.

"So, I'm assuming he doesn't know that you know?"

"Yes, Professor."

"I tell you the following in the utmost confidence. Do you understand?"

She nodded fervently. Her eyes were vacant of any emotion except hopelessness.

"Why don't we continue this discussion in the lounge area of my office?" I suggested. She picked up her drink without a word and led the way. Once we were settled, I turned to her.

"Do you understand? I tell you this because we have an agreement. If you reveal this information to anyone, anyone at all, several people's lives will be in danger."

"Yes, of course," she nodded, and suddenly her hopelessness gave way to curiosity.

"I have several students helping me here. They've been risking their lives to reveal any information about Lord Voldemort and his supporters here at the school, and I've received invaluable information due to their work. Now, if this is something you're perhaps interested in…?"

Lily stared at me, her green eyes hardening to flints of emerald. She took another sip of her wine. Then she spoke, her voice raspy and harsh, as if it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

"I want to help him. He's my best friend. I've known him since before I even came here. He lives a few streets down from me. And I can't believe this is really what he wants in life. If I could just find a way to _help_ him."

"Perhaps this is the best way?" I suggested.

"Maybe." She pondered her situation. "How would I do it?"

"You'd continue your relationship as you've been doing. I've noticed you've become quite close with a few Slytherin girls in your year? You could continue your friendship with them and see where this leads you. Of course, I would expect weekly updates of anything you find suspicious or odd in their speech."

"This is going to be hard," she hiccoughed.

"These sort of things are never easy."

"What if they find me out? They don't say anything important around me anyways! And besides, Tori and Judith and Rebeca! They aren't pure-blood! They hate Rosier and Travers!"

"The point, Miss Evans, is that your relationships remain amenable. And there's something you should understand about the Slytherins. They are like any other house at this school, in that they're very tightly knit. They've slept together in the same room for the last six years! Regardless of their outward feelings towards one another, there's a bond somewhere. And your main goal is to eventually be able to infiltrate."

"Impossible," Lily muttered.

"_Not_ impossible," I replied. "But we'll see where this takes you."

"I suppose," Lily replied. "And what if I'm found out?"

"Well, there's really nothing they can do to you right now. And this is, of course, a risk you will always be taking. You're of age now, and you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions regarding your life and the person you wish to be. And you said so yourself that you want to help Severus. Who knows? Perhaps your continued involvement with him will help him to understand and realize the grievous error he has indeed made."

"Yes, yes," she said, nodding.

"You must keep your eyes on the end prize, whatever this may be to you."

"Yes," she repeated.

"Very well. Now, our weekly discussions _must_, under all circumstances, remain secret. Therefore, I wish to meet with you only late at night. You can come to my office… hmm… let's say Thursday nights? This will, I think, work best for me. For you?"

"I believe so," Lily replied. "Thank you so much, Professor Dumbledore."

"And good luck," I replied. "Good night."

"Good night."

A/N: Comments welcome. Thanks to my beta, MRSSPICY.

Chapter 39: Interlude, Frederick Wilkes 2


	39. Between

**Sometimes We Die**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: **Between

**Author:** H. Ashleigh

Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.

"_And you know it's not so easy when you're all alone/and I wonder if I'm alone in your head." Early November_

_February 18, 1977_

Severus sat in the warm, steamy greenhouse as class began. Teeny drops of sweat trickled through his oily, thick strands of hair, and steadily dripped onto his shirt collar. Next to him, every so often, he could smell a trace of vanilla.

Professor Sprout explained the objective of the class, and then set them to work. Severus pulled his dragon-hide gloves on, tucked the sleeves of his shirt into them, and turned to Lily, who was pulling on her own much smaller gloves. It struck him in that instant how much weight it seemed she had lost. Her jaw, instead of gliding smoothly into the fleshy beginnings of her neck, jutted out sharply. Her chin was pointier than ever, and her shirt collar hung loosely down, like sagging skin.

"Have you been skipping meals?" He asked her.

"No." She shook her head at the same time, and turned away from him. As her hair swished down her back, a wash of vanilla overcame his face.

"You seem like you've lost weight."

"Are you suggesting I was once fat?"

"No, of course not!" he hurriedly said. He felt his face color.

"Severus, I'm joking," she laughed, turning back to him. Her face had broken into a wide smile, and a glint of laughter brightened her eyes to lily pad green.

"Of course, of course," he muttered.

They began their assignment, barely communicating throughout the whole class. Severus was struck by the efficiency with which they worked. If he needed the scissors, she was already handing them to him, and if she needed the shovel, or a towel, he was reaching for it before she even turned around. He couldn't help but think about their lack of interaction the past few weeks. She had even been skiving off their after-dinner walks.

"What are you doing later this evening?" He asked, as she struggled with some vines.

"Studying with Tori, and Rebeca and Judith," she answered when she had put the plant down and made some notes in her notebook. "You're welcome to join us if you wish."

"Umm," he stammered, trying to think quickly. He didn't really prefer to study with those four girls. Lily had a way with them- they lost their cold Slytherin-esque attitudes, and became girly. "I'm actually meeting with Judas and Frederick. You know, studying for N.E.W.T.'s."

"Oh, of course," she replied, looking unconcerned as she bent further over her notes.

"Let's secure some time together tomorrow evening," he suggested. "In the Room of Requirement."

"Sure, Sev," she said. She smiled up at him warmly.

He was pleased with the prospect of spending time with her. Of course, they were both very busy, what with N.E.W.T.'s looming over their heads, and he with his newly acquired position. But he would make it work. He did love her, after all.

_February 19, 1977_

After dinner, they walked customarily around the lake, bundled in warm clothes, breathing in cold air and out hot. She held his gloved hand in her mittened one, and her sharp, newly angular cheekbones were stained red with cold. Her lips were flushed almost purple and she leaned up a couple inches to kiss him on the mouth. Her kiss was rich and his heart sighed in satisfaction. A short while after, he led her back to the castle and up towards the Room of Requirement.

They laid together in downy silence, her hair spread all around him, his hands touching her soft, papery thin stomach. He could almost feel her ribs through her skin, and he missed the couple inches of plushy flesh she had lost.

"You need to start eating more," he told her. "I think you're getting too thin."

"I'm fine, Severus," she replied. "I just haven't been very hungry lately, is all. I have a lot of things going on, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"Well then," she said, leaning up on an elbow to stare down at him. "Hush." And she kissed him all over.

_Late February-Mid March 1977_

Everything continued quite in this manner for some time after that. Severus longed to see Lily as much as possible, but their strict schedules, coupled with the demanding course load, made that very difficult. She spent most of her time in the Gryffindor common room, studying with her housemates, or at Ravenclaw study sessions, or at her other extra-curriculars. Severus continued brewing for the Dark Lord; the Dark Lord sent new lists every couple of weeks, and Severus just brewed what was asked of him.

"You're the Dark Lord's servant now," Saloma had said to him one day in his laboratory. She was on the grounds again, when she shouldn't have been, but Severus had come to expect it of her. He had expressed very minimal distress at some of the potions the Dark Lord was asking of him, but distress nonetheless and she had noticed it immediately. "You made these choices, Severus," she reminded him cruelly.

He never dared to ask what any of the potions were for, but he could surmise a guess, and he remembered that he had wanted this, that he still wanted it. That thought, and that thought alone, helped him to move forward. He had everything he had ever wanted, and most nights that was all he needed to remember to be whisked away to a sleep as deep and dreamless as the Living Death.

Every other week, when she brought his new list of potions, he sent her off with the potions he had been working on. She was pleased to be a part of proceedings so important to the Dark Lord, even if she was merely a go-between. Severus couldn't help reminding her on many occasions that once he graduated and was living on his own, her involvement would no longer be necessary.

She merely responded by teasing him more than ever with her body. He had to constantly tell himself that she was nothing more than the Dark Lord's personal whore.

Judas was initiated not long after Severus, in the middle of February. After he received his mark, he began stalking Severus after classes, in the halls, in the dormitory. Severus at first thought it was fun to pretend Judas was not there, but finally, after several weeks, he became very impatient with being constantly followed and wheeled on him one day after Potions. Lily rushed past, not wanting to get in the middle of strange Slytherin politics.

"Avery," Severus began calmly. "What can I help you with?"

Judas just stared at him. The rest of the class was fading away down the corridor, and Slughorn always made it a particularly bizarre habit of escaping out of the back door of his classes, usually before anyone even had the chance to approach him about class logistics.

"I have been noticing a great deal of you the last few weeks, a great deal more of you than I feel comfortable with. Quite frankly, I prefer to prepare for my daily shower without others in the dormitory, and in the past this hasn't been a problem for me, but you have been there more than I like recently. Do you have a problem?" Severus asked point blank.

Judas coughed a little bit, and then mumbled a lot. Severus could discern only "the Dark Lord," "potions," and "assistance," from the whole thing, but he gathered the general idea. He was quite shocked that Judas knew anything about his potion brewing for the Dark Lord. No one was supposed to know about that at all.

"I didn't understand anything you just said," Severus replied, deciding to play dumb for as long as he could.

"Was-wondering-if-you-needed-any-help-with-your-brewing?"

"What brewing? The brewing Slughorn has us doing? I'm insulted. This is child's play. Since when have you ever been able to even consider assisting me in Potions?"

Judas shook his head. "No, Snape. You know what I'm talking about."

"No Avery, I don't," Severus replied. "Now, move out of my way. I have studying to do." Severus moved around him and started up the corridor.

"You're going to see that mudblood bitch Evans again, aren't you?"

Severus whirled around and stalked back to stare Avery directly in the eye, inches form his face.

"Such nasty language coming from a pureblood's mouth," Severus said silkily.

"At least my mouth isn't fouled by a mudblood's tongue," he spat back.

"Please," Severus snarled. "I see the way you look at Ziegler. You can barely keep the saliva from dripping off your chin."

Judas completely sidestepped Severus' accusation. "If the Dark Lord ever finds out about this little liaison you have going on with Evans—"

"The Dark Lord already knows," Severus almost yelled. His face was getting very hot.

Judas became deathly quiet. He smirked a little, and wiped some imaginary spittle off his face. "You're a fool," he said finally, shaking his head a little bit. His eyes danced with a sick, private joke. "Excuse me." He checked his watch. "Quidditch practice." He sidled around Severus and began the long walk out of the dungeons.

_Several Days Later_

Severus sat at lunch with his fellow Slytherins. He faced the Gryffindor table, as usual. No matter how often he was with Lily, he didn't think he would ever get used to her being his. He liked to watch her surreptitiously, like he was doing now. She sipped cautiously on what could've been coffee, or hot tea, or maybe just steaming water. Emily was chattering with Remus Lupin next to her. They were sharing a crossword, like they usually did, and Severus could see it floating around amongst the seventh year Gryffindors. Lily let it pass over her; she had never been partial to crossword puzzles, although Severus knew how good she was at them. All of that constant reading she did on the side of her studies had to pay off somehow.

Emily tried to push some scalloped potatoes on her.

'Good,' he thought to himself. 'Someone needs to force her to eat something.'

He chanced a glance down the length of the Slytherin table, searching for Frederick, but he wasn't there. Frederick had a habit of skipping lunch these days, but Severus didn't think it was strange. Arien Sohn, the girl he had taken to the Halloween ball, was sitting with her friends, laughing politely at something.

He overheard Judas and Evan talking about Slytherin's Quidditch chances with a couple fifth year reserves.

"Right now, Gryffindor is ahead of Ravenclaw by fifty points. We need to bring them down this next match, or else we won't stand a chance. Potter's crew has become indestructible."

"Don't EVER let him hear you say that," Evan growled.

On Severus' right sat Tori, Judith and Rebeca. They were talking about a group project for Ancient Runes. To his left sat Jezebel and Virginia, who were chatting amiably about stuff girls chat about, Severus supposed.

Severus wondered how any of them could talk about such trivial things as Quidditch matches and Ancient Runes projects, while he had unmentionable potions brewing floors above for the Dark Lord. He glanced back to the Gryffindor table to check on Lily again, but she was gone. Her fellow Gryffindors were still passing around the crossword, but she had vacated the hall. He found it strange she had managed to slip out without his noticing at all. He quickly downed his glass of water, gathered his books and left the hall as well, hoping to catch her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

A door off to the right of the Great Hall opened, and Severus turned to see Frederick exiting. He looked around, and then walked over to where Severus was standing.

"Frederick," Severus said. He eyed him warily.

"Severus," Frederick nodded. "How have you been doing?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm heading to the library. Free block of time for the next couple hours."

"Well, don't let me disturb you," Severus replied. Frederick stalked away upstairs. Severus glanced back at the door Frederick had exited, and walked over to it. He tried it, but it was locked. He had never really noticed the door there before.

He waited a few minutes for Frederick to get a good head start upstairs (he hated the awkwardness of following closely behind someone he had just excused himself from), and then made his way up to his lab.

He had to check on his potions.

A/N: Comments welcome!

Nice to see you back! (I'm sure you're thinking the same of me. Hopefully I can finish it this time around.) Thank you MRSSPICY.


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